


And That Was When I Kissed Her (Him)

by kaguya_yoru



Series: Everybody Talks [5]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Consensual Underage Sex, D/s AU, F/F, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Underage Kissing, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguya_yoru/pseuds/kaguya_yoru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There was a short silence before Phil spoke. “Clint,” he said carefully, “what are you offering?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Clint licked his lips and met Phil’s gaze squarely. “Me.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second to last planned story in the _Everybody Talks_ series. There are a number of different kinds of relationships that are explored in this story but only the main ones are tagged so as not to spoil the story. Posting will occur on a weekly schedule so if there are certain pairings that you don't like, you will have to wait until the story is completed to see the full list of pairings; they will be posted in the notes at the end of the completed story.
> 
> The underage tag is because this is set during the junior year of high school for Clint, Darcy, Natasha, and Tony; all other students are in their senior year.

The brakes let out a small squeal as Clint’s foster mother pulled the car to a stop outside of SHIELD Academy. Light washed through the interior from the rear window as another car pulled up behind them in queue before its headlights cut off. She cut the engine and Clint unbuckled his seatbelt as hot air stopped blowing from the vents, leaving silence in its wake. Blonde locks swung forward as she ducked her head slightly, looking beyond Clint to peer out the passenger side window at the school.

“The party looks like it's in full swing,” she said. 

It was early evening, the glow of the sky fading with the setting sun. Light spilled from the windows of the gym complex, illuminating sections of the lawn, and Clint could hear the steady thump, thump, thump of the bassline of the dance music playing inside. Other students were making their way to the open double doors, dotting the path here and there. 

“The dance is five hours long and we’re only a half hour late,” Clint said, trying not to show that her words rankled. His hands tightened into fists underneath the folded suit jacket on his lap. “I didn't want to be the first person to show up.”

“I'm just surprised that Phil didn't pick you up.”

Clint could feel her eyes on him. “He’s not my Dom anymore, Moira,” he said, looking anywhere but back at her.

“Yes, I know,” Moira said gently. “It’s been a week. I would have thought you would have renewed your claim by now.”

She lay a hand on his shoulder. “I know how you feel about him,” she said.

Clint swallowed hard against the lump in his throat but remained quiet, staring unseeing out the window.

Moira sighed. “Clint, look at me.” Even though she wasn't a Domme, the order was clear in her voice, that tone that all mothers everywhere have mastered.

Clint obediently turned his head to face her. Blue eyes looked back at him, set in a face with a strong nose and a wide mouth that was prone to laughter, surrounded by blonde hair that tumbled down to her shoulders in loose waves. Looking at the two of them together - he with his own tousled dirty blond hair and blue-green eyes - most people had no idea that he was adopted.

“I don't know what's come between you and Phil but I hope it's something that can be resolved.” The corners of her mouth turned down somewhat as she tweaked a strand of his hair into place. “You can be yourself around him in a way that you never let yourself be with us.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Clint asked immediately at the sight of her frown, a sharp spike of fear in his chest. “Whatever I did, I'll fix it.”

Moira shook her head. “No, honey,” she said gently. There was sadness in her eyes as she sighed. “You try so hard to be the perfect child and the perfect sub.”

“I know I'm not perfect,” Clint said around the lump in his throat. “I know my grades could be better. I'm trying as hard - ” He broke off and shook his head, setting his jaw with determination. “No, you’re right. I could try harder.”

“Clint, _no_ ,” Moira said firmly. “That is not what I meant.”

Clint bit back the words he wanted to say: promises that he would do better, vows that he would do anything to stay, pleas not to send him back to the orphanage. He liked his life. He liked that he got to see Barney twice a month even though he lived three towns over. He liked his school and his friends. And he liked his foster parents even though they were completely different from his birth parents, who had died in a car crash nine years earlier. Moira had the world’s best chili, so spicy that his eyes burned before he even took a bite. Robert was completely supportive of his archery and showed up to every competition. He didn’t want any of that to change.

There was only one thing he could think of that would make his life better and it was the very thing that had had his stomach twisting into knots all week. His hands clasped tight together in his lap, hidden by his folded suit jacket, as he waited for her to speak again.

“We’ve tried to show you that you can be yourself around us and we will love you just as you are. Apparently we haven’t done a good job of doing that.” A glimmer of a smile touched her lips. “But Phil has.”

Moira twitched another strand back into place. Clint was pretty certain there was nothing wrong with his hair - he'd spent an hour making it perfect - but he didn’t stop her.

“I want you to know,” she said, her eyes intent on his, “that you're so special and so deserving of love. You don't need to try to be the perfect son because you already are.”

Her image began to swim as moisture welled up in his eyes. After Carson Carnival shut down, Clint had been convinced that he would never find a place where he fit in so well again. Yet, these past three years had proven him wrong. He’d found parents in Moira and Robert, an extended family with Barney’s foster parents Dipali and Alan, and a best friend in Natasha. 

Then, there was Phil.

He sniffed loudly as she continued. “We’re going to keep showering you with as much love as you can handle.” Her mouth spread into a wide smile. “And I want you to know that we're doing it because we're never ever going to let you go.”

She dragged him into a fierce hug, her wiry arms grabbing him with surprising strength. He hugged back just as tightly, a couple of tears slipping free as he closed his eyes.

Moira pulled back and used her thumbs to wipe the moisture from his cheeks. “Now you have fun tonight,” she ordered, her own eyes bright. “We’ll be back late from the show. You’re staying at Natasha’s afterwards?”

Clint nodded, not trusting his voice, emotions swelling in his throat.

“All right, then,” she said. “Off you go.”

Clint nodded again and grabbed the car door latch. The inside light came on as he pushed open the car door, illuminating the pride and love in Moira’s eyes. Clint paused at the sight, his body poised to get out of the car.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick. He darted forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Moira’s smile brightened in response, a tear of her own sliding down her cheek. Clint sent her a small smile in return and then got out of the car, closing the door shut behind him. The engine started up again as he took a moment to pull himself together. He was just thinking about heading towards the gym when he heard the sound of the passenger side window sliding down.

“Oh, and Clint?”

Clint leaned over so that he could see her clearly. Moira raised her eyebrows, a knowing glint in her eyes. “If you’re not spending the night with Natasha, stay safe. There are supplies in your jacket pocket. And the top drawer of your nightstand.”

Clint hoped there wasn’t enough of the fading light to show the blush that he could feel lighting his face on fire. “Yes, ma’am,” he stammered out as she rolled up the window. Moira let out a good-natured laugh at the mortified expression on his face as she waved goodbye and then pulled away from the curb.

Clint blushed all the harder when he slipped his left hand into his jacket pocket and felt the edges of two plastic packets. Turning around, he spent a moment contemplating the building before him, willing the redness to fade from his cheeks. It was spring according to the calendar but a winter chill still hung in the air. The last remnants of the sunlight stretched across the horizon behind it, burnt orange and red fading into the deep purple of twilight. The moon glowed overhead, only a sliver keeping it from being completely full, with the twinkle of the stars lending their illumination to the darkening sky. A concrete path stretched before him, leading to the open double doors of the gym complex. Two adults were checking tickets at the entrance, backlit by the swirling white and green and blue and red lights on the dance floor. 

Other cars were pulling up to the curb behind him, teenagers spilling out of the cars with smiles on their faces, trailing clouds of perfume and cologne. They passed by him, laughter in their voices, calling out to those that they recognized, grouping together in twos and threes as they headed towards the SHIELD Academy end of the year dance.

Clint’s feet felt like they were glued to the ground. He put his hands into his pockets of his dress pants, ruining the lines of the grey suit, as he marshaled up his courage to move. There was no point in putting it off anymore. He had made a promise to himself that he would find out the truth tonight and deal with the consequences.

He licked his lips and forced himself to take that first step. Putting all his concentration into maintaining forward movement even as his gut churned with nerves, a trickle of sweat sliding down his neck and slipping under his purple dress shirt collar, he was slightly dismayed by how quickly he reached the end of the short line leading into the dance. He handed his ticket to the teacher when it was his turn, the paper slightly crumpled from its time in his pants pocket.

“Enjoy the dance,” she said, after checking the ticket in the light from her flashlight, flashing him a bright smile before turning her attention to the person behind him.

Clint blew out a breath and headed inside. The gym had been decorated to the nines, streamers trailing from the ceiling, groups of blue, silver, and white balloons tied to heavy weights flanking the buffet tables and placed as centerpieces on the small round white tables surrounded by folding chairs. Teenagers filled the space: standing in line for food, milling around the outside edges of the dance floor, sitting at the tables with small plates and cups of punch, and jumping up and down to the pop song pumping through the speakers. Adults were scattered throughout the crowd, faculty and staff members acting as chaperones, effective deterrents to any shenanigans just from their sheer presence.

Moving to one side so as to not block the entrance, Clint scanned the room. There were more teenagers in the gym than were currently enrolled in the school, he knew. As the premiere high school for military families, there was a lot of turnover of the student body as parents were transferred to other bases or deployed overseas. SHIELD Academy extended invitations for the end of the school dance to all students who had ever matriculated, regardless of where they were currently going to school. Many accepted, even flying in to attend, with SHIELD Academy graciously providing housing for those who were willing to make the trip from out of town.

“You’re late.”

Natasha stepped in front of him, seemingly appearing from out of thin air. Her red hair framed her face in a becoming chin-length curly bob. Her lips were a bright cherry red and as she crossed her arms, her green eyes flashing with annoyance, he could see that the manicured nails resting on her biceps had been painted a similar shade. A modest black cocktail dress and strappy heels completed the look.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Clint said, his lips tilting up into a lopsided smile.

Natasha’s eyes softened. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said begrudgingly, taking in his three piece grey suit paired with a purple dress shirt and patterned grey tie. She tilted her head towards the dance floor. “Dance with me.”

Clint extended his hand. “Lead the way.”

*

“It wasn’t that bad!” Fandral protested. He ran a hand through the sweep of his blond hair.

Darcy glared at him, although there was a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. “You’d had a sandwich that was piled sky high with onions. And then you burped in my face. I thought I was going to pass out.”

“All right,” Fandral conceded, “so our first kiss wasn’t the greatest.” He leaned in and trailed his fingers over her bare shoulder, lowering his voice. “I could make it up to you.”

Darcy shot him an unimpressed look. “I’m a free agent, honey. You need to step up your game if you want a chance with all of this,” she said, sweeping her hands down the sides of her form-fitting off-the-shoulder black dress that highlighted her ample curves.

“In that case, my dear lady,” Volstagg interjected, his normally unruly wavy auburn hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, “would you do me the honor of favoring me with a dance?”

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “Very smooth,” she said in an appreciative voice. “I accept, my dear sir.” She placed her hand in his own and rose from her chair, laughing as Volstagg waggled his eyebrows at Fandral, who was shaking a fist at him in mock anger.

Steve exchanged a glance and a smile with Phil at their antics. Darcy and Fandral had begun casually flirting with each other during those first weeks of the past summer, until the time came for Fandral and the others to return home. When the Norwegian exchange students had come into town last week to attend the dance, they'd picked up where they left off as if no time had passed at all.

Thor chuckled, causing a smile to cross Jane’s face from where she was nestled against his chest. “Never fear, Fandral. I’m fairly certain lady Darcy returns your affections. Isn’t that right, Jane?”

“Oh no.” Jane’s smile turned secretive as she looked up at him. “I am not breaking the girl code of silence, not even for you.”

Fandral grinned. “Darcy and I have an understanding, Thor. It’s the thrill of the chase that excites the blood.” His eyes were warm as he watched Volstagg twirl Darcy around the dance floor.

“I don’t know,” Thor said, peering down at Jane. Her brown locks curled around her delicate face and her deep blue empire waist gown draped regally on her frame, its one shoulder strap studded with crystals glittering in the lights. “I feel plenty of excitement around my dear Jane.”

A blush stained her cheeks and she lightly slapped his chest with the back of her hand at the double entendre. His grin only widened as he dipped his head to capture her lips.

Loki rolled his eyes and rose smoothly to his feet. While the rest of the Norwegian boys wore classic black suits, his jacket was the color of a deep forest green, which he buttoned with one quick movement of his hand. “I’m going to go get the sugar bomb they call punch here,” he said, a sneer curling his lips. “I’m slightly less likely to get diabetes that way.”

Jane broke free from Thor with a small self-conscious giggle. “Oh come on,” she said, her eyes cutting towards Loki. “Don’t bring down the mood just because you couldn’t scrounge up a date.”

She and Loki had never really gotten along and it seemed to have only worsened since last summer. Loki never passed up a chance to insinuate to Jane that her relationship with Thor was short-lived; even though they had survived a year’s worth of separation, it was unusual for two strong-willed Doms such as Thor and Jane to form a lasting relationship. In a week, they would be separated again, Thor and Loki returning to Norway, along with Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg.

“I’ll have you know that I came here alone by choice,” Loki retorted. “I have my eyes on a suitable prospect.” The way he emphasized the word ‘suitable’ left no doubt as to what he thought of Jane.

“If you will not keep a civil tongue,” Thor said, his voice a low rumble, “it would be best if you removed yourself from our presence.” His arms tightened around Jane, who was glaring at Loki.

Loki inclined his head. “As you wish, brother,” he said, sarcasm evident. He swept his gaze across the remaining people at the table. Sif shook her head at him. Her elbows rested on the table as she leaned forward, her long dark hair in an elegant updo. Fandral’s gaze was focused on Darcy as she shimmied with Volstagg on the dance floor; it was clear that he’d missed the entire exchange between Loki and Jane. Hogun had been ignoring everyone at the table for a while now, eyes trained on his cell phone with a bored expression on his face.

Steve shifted in his seat when Loki turned his gaze on him, blatant in his perusal. After finally experiencing a growth spurt over the winter, Steve had grown three inches and had been able to put on a few extra pounds, filling out his slender frame somewhat. It was common knowledge that he was claimed but, with it ending in less than three months, he’d been getting more than a few appreciative looks lately. It was flattering but surprising, as he wasn’t used to being looked at with anything other than pity.

Heat began to rise to Steve’s cheeks as Loki’s gaze lingered. He startled a little guiltily when Phil, in the seat next to him, said “Loki,” in a hard voice.

Loki smirked and met Phil’s gaze. “Worried I’ll steal your little sub away, Coulson?” He leaned forward, one hand splayed across his midsection in a parody of a bow. “Don’t worry,” he said, “there are plenty of delectable unclaimed subs here.”

He glanced towards the dance floor. Steve followed his gaze to see Clint laughing with Natasha as he spun her around. He turned back in time to see Phil’s expression go carefully blank.

“You should leave, Loki,” Steve said firmly, glaring at him for good measure on Phil’s behalf.

A haughty expression crossed Loki’s face as he straightened up. “Already on my way.” He turned to go.

“Leave him alone.” Phil’s voice came out low and fierce, halting Loki in his tracks. An undercurrent of strong emotion brought power to his words but not a hint of dominance was present; Phil had no right to make it a Dom’s demand.

“Oh, Coulson.” Loki’s lips curled upwards in obvious delight at the fact that he’d hit a nerve. “Barton made his choice.”

With that parting shot, he strode off into the crowd.

Sif let out a sigh, her expression resigned as she watched him walk away. “Loki does like to cause mischief.”

“Last year,” Phil said slowly, obviously picking his words with care as he addressed the Norwegian students, “Loki was persistent when he wanted something. Is that still the case?”

They all knew the situation that Phil was referring to so tactfully. Last year, Loki had doggedly pursued Bruce with an intensity that had been unnerving. Thor had finally had to step in and talk to him in order to get him to back down. Rumor had it that he’d tried to go after Natasha next; neither one of them ever confirmed it but Loki had stopped hanging out with all of them as much afterwards.

Thor, Sif, and Hogun exchanged looks. Steve moved a little closer to Phil, trying to lend some measure of support with his presence.

“Loki is known for his powers of persuasion,” Hogun finally said somewhat cryptically.

Thor let out a sigh. “I've never known him to force anyone to do anything,” he said. Sif and Hogun nodded in agreement.

“But he can be,” Sif paused a moment, “very convincing when he wants to be.”

A muscle ticked in Phil’s jaw.

“Phil.” Steve laid his hand on Phil’s arm. Underneath the dark blue suit jacket, the muscles were rigid with tension. “You should talk to Clint.”

A dejected look briefly crossed Phil’s face before he composed himself. “Loki’s right,” he murmured, almost too low to be heard over the music. “I have to respect Clint’s decision.”

Steve glanced over at Clint dancing with Natasha. He had no idea what happened between Phil and Clint a week ago, only that Clint had refused to renew their claim. It didn't make any sense; he knew in his heart that Clint was still in love with Phil. It wasn’t his place to tell Phil the truth, though, so he sat back with a sigh, letting Sif draw him into conversation.

*

“Mind if I cut in?” 

Clint turned to see Darcy standing behind him on the dance floor with a sly smile on her face. He grinned. “As long as Natasha doesn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Natasha said, one corner of her cherry-painted lips curving upwards.

Darcy walked right past Clint and into Natasha’s waiting arms just as a slow song came on through the speakers. They regarded each other for a moment and then Natasha raised an eyebrow. At similar heights, Darcy was easily able to lay her head on Natasha’s shoulder as they swayed back and forth, Natasha’s hands grasping her low on the waist where the flare of her hips began, her body melting into the embrace. A pang went through Clint’s heart as he watched the swirling colored lights paint patterns on their black dresses and the ease with which Natasha subtly dominated Darcy. He pointedly did not look in the direction of the tables where he knew a certain person was seated.

Clint startled when Thor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Volstagg has stolen the attentions of my lady Jane and I find myself in need of refreshments,” he said. “What say you?”

“Yeah.” Clint smiled at him, grateful for the distraction. “I’m starving.”

They raided the buffet table, piling their plates high with food. After snagging a cup of punch, Thor turned back in the direction of the tables their friends shared. Clint’s step faltered.

“Thor, I can’t,” he said in a low voice. He wasn’t ready to face Phil yet.

Thor’s expression was sympathetic. “Come, my friend.”

He steered them to a table on the opposite side of the dance floor. It was in a relatively quiet corner in the back of the gym near a set of double doors that led to the outside. Clint dropped down into a seat with a sigh as Thor placed his own plates down on the table and settled into the chair next to him.

“You seem troubled,” Thor said before popping a mini-quiche whole into his mouth.

Clint took a bite out of a spring roll. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it,” he mumbled.

Thor nodded but didn't say a word, making his way steadily through the variety of finger foods in front of him. His appetite wasn't as legendary as Volstagg’s but it was still substantial. Clint appreciated the silence as together, they tackled the small mountain of food in front of them.

“There's something I promised myself I would do tonight,” Clint finally said, the need to talk overwhelming his usual reticence. “I'm just working up the courage to do it.”

“We all know you have not renewed your claim with Phil. Do you desire another as your Dom?” Thor surveyed the room. “‘Tis romantic to make such a proposition at a dance.”

“No!” Clint emphatically shook his head. “Phil is - ” He dropped a half-eaten celery stick laden with ranch dressing onto his plate and sighed again. “He’s perfect.”

“Forgive me if I am being too forward,” Thor said. His blue eyes peered at Clint with a shrewdness that most people missed. “But it appears that you are in as much pain as Phil. Why have you not renewed your claim if that is your desire?”

Clint looked away. He’d only talked about this once with Natasha and he didn’t feel he was close enough with Thor to open up. “I don’t want to hurt him,” he said after a long moment’s silence, “but there’s something that I need to know.”

Thor inclined his head. “Fair enough,” he said, picking up a buffalo wing. “I pray that you find the truth you seek.”

“Can I ask you something?” Clint asked, not wanting to waste the opportunity in front of him. “Are you and Jane going to keep doing the long-distance thing?”

“Yes, that is our intention.”

Clint waited for Thor to say something else but he continued to chew on his buffalo wing in silence. “Okay,” he said, drawing out the word in his hesitation to ask his next question. “But do you think you'll last?”

Thor set down the bone, now cleaned of all of its meat, and wiped his fingers on a napkin. “Who can say what the fates hold for us?” he said. “We can only make the attempt and give it our best effort.”

He gave Clint a contemplative look. “Is that what holds your tongue? Fear that your claim with Phil would not survive the separation of high school graduation?”

“A little,” Clint grudgingly admitted. “He’s going to meet a ton of people in college. Maybe it's better to not renew our claim than to have him break it off later.”

“You do him too little credit,” Thor said quietly. “As you do yourself. I have seen the way you look at him. Does your heart not feel the stirrings of love?”

Clint winced. “You can tell?” Steve, Natasha, and now Thor all knew without him saying a word; was he really that transparent? He looked around and lowered his voice. “Fuck, does everyone know?”

“Peace.” Thor chuckled and held up his hands. “I only know because I've seen the same expression in the mirror.”

“Oh.” Clint blinked. “ _Oh_.”

Thor turned his attention to the dance floor, his expression softening as he found Jane in the crowd of dancing teenagers. She was laughing as Volstagg gyrated next to her, head thrown back and hands clutching her midsection. “Love is a powerful force and can be used to overcome many barriers,” he mused, a fond smile curling his lips. “You should speak with the son of Coul about your concerns. Don't let fear rule your heart.”

Silence fell over them as Thor polished off the rest of his food. Clint was still contemplating his last words when Thor stood up from his chair. “I see that Fandral has finally garnered the affections of the lady Darcy and Volstagg is about to ask for Natasha’s hand. I shall see if Jane will favor me with a dance.”

“Sure thing,” Clint said. “Hey, Thor?”

Thor paused in the act of gathering up his empty plates, turning a questioning gaze on him.

“Thanks.” Sincerity rang in Clint’s voice.

Thor smiled at him and then headed towards the dance floor, dropping his garbage in a trash can along the way.

Clint munched on the rest of his food, watching as Volstagg bowed slightly to Natasha and extended his hand. She smiled and placed her hand in his, moving gracefully into his arms. In spite of his large size, Volstagg was surprisingly light on his feet as they traveled around the dance floor. Nearby, Hogun was twirling Sif, her infectious grin bright. Thor approached Jane and drew her close. They swayed in a rhythm that bore no resemblance to the music, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Steeling himself, Clint finally let his gaze move to where he’d been avoiding looking all night.

The sight of Phil smiling at Steve hit him low in the gut, his breath catching in his lungs. They were a striking pair: the chocolate suit Steve wore was a perfect complement to Phil’s navy one, Steve’s blond-covered head so close to Phil’s dark brown strands. Clint hungrily took in the expression on Phil’s face: the curve of his lips was all too familiar and he couldn’t remember how many times he’d spent the past year getting lost in Phil’s brilliant blue-grey eyes. Steve looked similarly entranced, pink staining his cheeks as he continued to hold Phil’s gaze. 

Clint swallowed a whimper as he watched Steve lean in even further and Phil smoothly grasp the back of his neck. The memory of that firm hold made his eyes flutter as his head involuntarily bowed forward. Every part of him ached to go over to Phil.

“Absolutely gorgeous.”

Clint’s eyes flew open and he jerked his head up. Loki was looking down at him, appreciation obvious in his eyes. The Odinson boys were undoubtedly some of the most handsome students to go to the school. Whereas Thor naturally drew others to him with his loose blond hair, blue eyes, and wide smile, Loki held a darker appeal. His shoulder-length straight black hair was usually worn slicked back from his face, highlighting his high cheekbones, and his lips were held in an almost perpetual smirk. An element of danger surrounded him and he had a way with words that had made more than a few subs swoon and had captured the attention of quite a few Doms as well.

“I’d hope to find you here tonight,” Loki said, his lips curved in a charming smile. The blue eyes he shared with his brother somehow seemed even more intense against the deep green color of his suit.

“Me?” Clint’s voice came out in a croak and he hurriedly cleared his throat.

“I regret that we haven’t had the chance to speak much before now,” Loki said. His smile turned a little rueful. “Coulson seemed to keep you on a rather short leash.”

Involuntarily, Clint’s eyes flicked back towards Phil, just in time to see him press a kiss to Steve’s forehead. Steve looked utterly content, his face relaxed and his long eyelashes fanning across his cheeks.

Loki unbuttoned his suit jacket with a flick of his wrist and slipped into the chair vacated by Thor, blocking Clint’s view. “I’ve heard from Fandral that you are as proficient with swords and knives as you are in the art of archery.”

“Y-yeah,” Clint said, focusing his attention on Loki. “I prefer the bow but I was trained in blades first.”

“I myself have an affinity for daggers.” Loki’s smile widened with genuine warmth as he placed his hand on top of Clint’s. “Perhaps we could train together sometime.”

“Uh, maybe.” Clint pulled his hand away, not wanting to think about the small thrill that went through him at Loki’s firm touch. It had only been a week since his claim with Phil ended. It wasn't fair that his submissive urges were flaring up again so soon, his need to follow the command of a strong Dom; he’d thought he would have more time.

Loki narrowed his eyes slightly as he regarded Clint. “I hope you will give me leave to be frank.”

“Sure,” Clint replied, shrugging his shoulders.

“Coulson doesn’t deserve you,” Loki said flatly.

Clint stiffened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said coldly.

Loki leaned forward. “You are utterly exquisite,” he said, his voice a silky caress. “It is clear you were made to be on your knees. Those lips were crafted to be wrapped around a hard cock. Your ass cries out to be spanked until it’s a rosy red. If there were a model of the perfect submissive, you would embody every single characteristic.”

Clint’s lips parted, breath caught. He was captivated by the simmering heat in Loki’s eyes. An answering desire stirred within him at the lavish praise, his cock thickening.

“You deserve to have a Dom’s full attention, to not have to worry that he’s thinking about a different blond when he’s with you.”

Clint looked down at that. He knew that that wasn't actually the case; Phil always gave the person he was with his full attention. But he couldn't deny that there was a small part of his heart that wondered if things would be easier if Phil had just been into one of them.

Loki tilted his head up until their gazes were locked once more. “I can bring you to heights of passion you’ve never even dreamed. Clint,” Loki leaned even closer until their lips were only inches away, lowering his voice so that Clint had to strain to hear it over the music and background chatter, “I long to hear you scream my name.”

Clint’s eyes were wide as he stared back at Loki, his pulse hammering in his throat and his traitorous cock straining against his dress pants. He couldn’t deny that Loki’s offer was tempting. Loki was a Dominant switch and the cool confidence with which he carried himself promised the kind of firm handling that Clint’s body craved. Yet, as he looked into Loki’s blue eyes, he found himself searching for familiar green and hazel hues that weren’t there. He wanted more than what Loki was offering. Much more.

“I can’t,” Clint whispered.

Anger briefly flashed in Loki’s eyes and he tightened his hold on Clint’s chin. “Reconsider,” he said and this time, steely dominance underlay every syllable.

Clint sucked in a breath as his body responded to the tone, his spine curving as he swayed towards Loki. Triumph flared in Loki’s eyes and he began to close the distance between them.

“ _No._ ” Clint poured every bit of protest he could into the one word.

Loki stopped moving immediately. They were so close that the irritated huff Loki let out blew across Clint’s sensitized lips. “Clint - ” he started to say.

“You heard what he said, Loki.”

Clint jerked backwards out of Loki’s grasp at the sound of Phil’s voice, the legs of the folding chair he was sitting in scraping across the gym floor. Phil glared at Loki from a few feet away, arms crossed and jaw clenched tight.

Loki smoothly rose from the chair and buttoned his suit jacket. He towered over Phil by half a foot but Phil didn't back down a single inch. “Of course I will respect his wishes,” he said. He looked down at Clint, whose chest visibly rose and fell with harsh breaths. “I only hope that you will reconsider my offer, Clint, so that we may both enjoy the short time I have left in your country.”

He inclined his head and strode away, his long legs carrying him quickly through the crowd.

“Clint?” A furrow creased Phil’s brow as he turned his attention to Clint, worry coloring his voice. “Are you okay?”

Clint abruptly stood up and took a few stumbling steps away, panic surging through him. This was not how he wanted to speak to Phil, flushed with arousal from another Dom. He whirled around and hurried through the doors that led to the outside, grateful for the blast of cool air over his overheated skin. He kept moving until he was several yards away from the building, clenching his hands as he struggled to calm the unwanted desire still thrumming through his body.

“Clint, please.” Clint closed his eyes at the sound of Phil’s voice behind him, breaths still harsh and heart pounding in his chest from his sprint outside. “I just need to know if you’re okay.”

*

“So have you decided what major you're going to do?” Steve handed Pepper a cup of punch.

“At the moment, I'm thinking of majoring in Finance and minoring in Art History. Or vice versa. Or double majoring.” Pepper’s musical laugh rang out as they took their cups of punch to a nearby table. “Okay, clearly I don’t know.”

She and Tony and Bruce had arrived almost an hour after the dance started. According to Tony, it was so they would be “fashionably late,” but Pepper explained that Tony had spent the time shaping his beard into a ridiculously elaborate goatee. Although Steve hadn’t admitted it to Tony, it had actually looked good on him. Tony and Bruce had disappeared soon after their arrival so Steve had taken it upon himself to keep Pepper company, who looked stunning in an elegant sapphire blue dress with thin straps, her normally straight hair styled into loose waves.

She took a sip of the punch. “You're going to do a major in Fine Arts, right?”

Steve was quiet a moment. “Actually, I'm not sure.”

“What do you mean?” Pepper’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Your portfolio is amazing. You have to be an artist.”

“It's just that my ma’s been working so hard to help me pay for college,” Steve said. “There’s not a lot of money in being an artist.”

Pepper lay a hand on Steve’s arm, sympathy in her eyes. “That's really sweet of you,” she said. “What would you do instead?”

“Honestly?” Steve shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Is that you, punk?”

Steve’s brow creased at the familiar voice in an unfamiliar setting. Turning around, Steve was floored to see who was standing behind him in a slim black suit. “Jerk?” 

Bucky Barnes grinned and pulled him into a tight hug, enthusiastically pounding his back. Steve hugged back just as tightly, his mouth stretched into a wide grin.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked when he pulled back. He and Bucky had been best friends growing up in Brooklyn. They’d separated when his mother had gotten a better nursing job near SHIELD Academy, Steve moving while Bucky stayed behind. They still kept in touch but Steve had no idea Bucky was going to be in town, let alone come to the dance.

“Your friend Tony pulled some strings so that I could come to this shindig.” Bucky grinned. His hair was longer now but his blue eyes still sparkled just like he remembered.

Steve looked at Pepper to confirm Bucky’s words. He vaguely remembered mentioning at lunch weeks ago that he wished Bucky would be able to come but he hadn’t even thought that Tony heard him. She shrugged and gave him a warm smile. “You know Tony,” she said.

Bucky slung his arm around Steve. “Man, I missed you,” he said, hugging him close. “You have got to introduce me to the Dom that’s managed to get you to listen to him.”

“Sure, Bucky.” Steve grinned and looked around for Phil, who had excused himself a few minutes ago. Steve’s eyes fell on the back of the gym just as Clint burst through the double doors that led to the outside, Phil hot on his heels.

Steve turned back to Bucky. He hoped that Phil and Clint didn’t get interrupted; they really needed to talk. “I don’t see him right now,” he said, “but I’ll definitely introduce you to him later.”

Bucky’s gaze was trained on the dance floor. “Yeah, later,” he said absently. “Please tell me you know the redhead over there.”

Steve followed the direction of his stare. “Volstagg or Natasha?” he asked, watching the two of them laugh together.

Bucky straightened his tie and smoothed his hair back from his face with the palms of both hands. “Natasha, huh?”

“Bucky,” Steve said seriously. “She will eat you alive.”

Bucky’s grin only widened. “Ah, but what a way to go.” He laughed at the worried expression on Steve’s face and looked around the room again. “All right, what about the brunette who just walked in?” he asked, nodding towards the entrance.

The girl at the entrance was wearing a form-fitting red dress that showed off her voluptuous figure to perfection, lips painted bright red to match. Her brown curls were pinned in a retro hairstyle. She looked around, obviously searching for someone.

Steve’s heart skipped a beat, his lips parting in surprise. “Peggy?”

*

“Please, Clint. Let me know that you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” Clint forced the words out, keeping his back to Phil. His face still burned with embarrassment but he was relieved to feel his erection go soft.

Silence stretched between them. Clint was keenly aware of Phil’s gaze on his back as he stared across the soccer field. The field lights were dark and the surrounding bleachers cast long shadows in the moonlight across the artificial turf.

“Right,” Phil finally said after a long silence. “I'll leave you then.”

“Wait.” Clint steeled himself and then spun around to face Phil. “We should talk.”

He didn't miss the flare of hope in Phil’s eyes. His entire body tingled at the look Phil gave him then, a close perusal that started at his feet and slowly traveled up to his head.

“Wow,” Phil said, his voice soft and full of wonder. “You look amazing.”

A blush heated Clint’s cheeks. “You too,” Clint replied in a voice just as soft, the words woefully inadequate to describe just how gorgeous he thought Phil looked. Paired with a white dress shirt, the three piece navy suit enhanced the color of Phil’s blue-grey eyes, a striped tie neatly knotted at his neck. The strength of Phil’s Dom presence was almost palpable: a maturity beyond his years in his carriage and the confidence that came from knowing that if he gave an order, it would be obeyed.

“I saw you out on the dance floor earlier. Is Natasha your date?”

“No.” Clint shook his head. “No, I came alone.”

The set of Phil’s shoulders loosened somewhat at that statement. He remained quiet though and after an almost embarrassingly long pause, Clint realized that Phil was patiently waiting for him to speak.

Clint blew out a breath. “I asked you for some time.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Thank you for that.” Clint licked his lips. “I needed to think about some things.”

Curiosity was in Phil’s eyes but he didn't press for an answer.

“I needed to think about you and Steve.”

Phil’s expression went carefully blank, just as Clint knew it would. “What about me and Steve?” he asked.

“You’re both going to go to college. Probably together.” Clint looked up at the building behind Phil. “And I'm going to be stuck here.”

“We don't know that we’re going to college together. Acceptance letters haven't even started arriving yet.” Phil briefly closed his eyes and then shook his head, jaw set. “But that's not the point, is it?”

“No, it isn't.” Clint’s mouth was bone dry. He swallowed but it didn't help much. “I’m working really hard on my grades but let’s face it, I’m not going to be able to get into the kind of colleges you two will.”

“In the long run, grades won’t matter,” Phil said immediately.

“But for college, they do,” Clint shot back. This was a discussion they’d already had a few times before and it always ended the same way. Clint shook his head, letting out a sigh. “I don’t want to argue about that. There's something I want to ask you.”

“Okay,” Phil said. Clint could hear the way he was making a special effort to keep his voice even. “What is it?”

“I couldn't be in a claim with you any longer unless I knew for certain.” Clint’s heart was hammering in his chest.

“Knew what?”

Clint didn't want to just renew their claim. He wanted something more from Phil. The words were right on the tip of his tongue. Phil was patiently waiting for him to complete his thought. Clint’s throat worked as he tried to tell Phil the words he’d been carrying around for months.

But he couldn’t get them out. He had been carrying around this wish for so long that now that the moment had arrived, it had become too big for him to give voice to it. But maybe he didn't have to tell Phil. Maybe he could show him.

“My foster parents won’t be back until late tonight,” Clint said instead in a rush. “Early morning, actually. I told them that I was going to Natasha’s after the dance but I’m not.”

A furrow appeared between Phil’s brows. “Why are you telling me this?”

“My house will be empty for most of the night.” Butterflies fluttered in Clint’s gut. “I want you to come over.”

There was a short silence before Phil spoke. “Clint,” he said carefully, “what are you offering?”

Clint licked his lips and met Phil’s gaze squarely. “Me.”

*

Steve moved towards Peggy as if he were drawn by a magnet. Everything else dropped away - the music, the other people - as he closed the distance between them. She noticed him when he was halfway across the room, her lips curving into a pleased grin.

“Peggy,” Steve said in dazed wonderment when he reached her. “You’re here.”

“Yes, I am,” Peggy replied, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Several moments passed of them staring at each other in silence, smiles stretched across their faces. Steve was sure that his own looked decidedly goofy but he couldn't seem to stop.

“You’re taller,” Peggy said and then cleared her throat, obviously flustered. “I mean, how are you?”

With his growth spurt, they were now the same height. “I feel taller,” Steve said with a short laugh that was only a little self-conscious. “And I’m happy that you’re here.”

The dimples appeared in her cheeks again as her smile widened. Peggy glanced around before focusing back on him. “Considering our current location,” she said, her English accent imparting a different cadence to the words, “would you care to dance?”

Steve swallowed. “I’d be honored,” he said.

They made their way to the dance floor, occasionally shooting each other glances out of the corners of their eyes. Just as they reached the edge, the music changed to a slower tempo.

Steve ducked his head a little. “Sorry if I step on your toes,” he said as he extended his hand.

“Oh, I think we’ll be able to manage,” Peggy said as she moved into his arms. His palms tingled as he settled them gently on her waist. Her delicate floral scent wafted to his nose as she clutched his shoulders. 

They swayed gently together to the beat of the music, staring into each other’s eyes. “I apologize for not keeping in touch.” Peggy’s voice held true remorse.

“No, I understand. It would have been difficult with the time difference.”

“Right.” Peggy nodded in agreement, although they both knew that wasn’t the real reason why they hadn’t spoken since last year. “The time difference.”

Silence fell once more between them, the singer on the track crooning about being in the mood for love. Even feeling the flare of Peggy’s hips underneath his palms, Steve couldn’t believe that this wasn’t a dream. Last year, he had been working up the courage for weeks to ask Peggy to be his date when she’d dropped the bomb that she was returning to England. The kiss she’d laid on him after the pronouncement had been gentle and yet it had shaken him down to his core. After she left, he hadn't even dared to hope he would see her again.

“You look wonderful,” Steve said earnestly, feeling flutters in his stomach when those dimples made a reappearance.

“As do you,” Peggy replied. She drew in a deep breath, obviously steeling herself to say her next words. Steve valiantly kept his eyes on her face rather than the impressive expansion of her bosom. “I’m going to be in town for a few days. I’d like to see you again after this, if that’s okay with you,” she added, the words clipped sharply at the ends as she rushed to get them out.

“Of course I would.”

“There are things that we should talk about,” she continued briskly.

“Yes, there are.”

“Things that perhaps we should have discussed before.”

Steve couldn’t tear his gaze away from hers. Her eyes were a deep, warm brown and he felt like he could just fall right into them. “Maybe we should have.”

Over the course of the song, they had naturally drifted over to a less populated corner of the dance floor. They stilled as it came to an end, a pop sound with a thumping bass line coming on next that they completely ignored.

“I'm applying for universities in the States,” Peggy said, her words uncharacteristically hesitant.

“You are?”

“Is that all right?” Peggy’s eyes moved rapidly back and forth as her gaze searched his own.

Steve’s hands tightened on her waist. His voice was deeper than usual when he answered. “More than.”

“Oh,” Peggy said softly, “Steve.”

All of the emotions Steve felt for Peggy last year flooded his system: admiration for her quiet strength, respect for the way she fearlessly pursued her dreams, appreciation for the curves that graced her figure. He let all of it show on his face, not wanting her to doubt for even an instant that he wasn't ecstatic at the idea of her coming back stateside. One of her hands slowly moved from where it rested on his shoulder to curl around the back of his neck.

“Kiss me, Steve,” she said, steel curling around the words, an invitation to so much more than a kiss.

Steve froze.

_Kiss me, Steve._

How many times had he heard that phrase over the last year?

_Phil._

Alarm bells clamored in his head even as his body yearned to move closer. A shudder went through him as he fought conflicting desires - the urge to do as Peggy commanded battling with his need not to dishonor his own Dom - his body flushing hot and then cold as he felt himself being pulled into two different directions. With a monumental effort, he pulled free from Peggy’s arms and lurched back a few steps.

“Steve?” Peggy’s brow creased. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

A whimper escaped his lips at her tone, wanting to do something to take the sharp note away but unable to move. He hadn’t had an asthma attack in months but he gasped, a tearing sensation in his chest making it hard to breathe. Steve slid to his knees as emotions overwhelmed him, guilt above all else that he wanted to obey another Dom’s command. His gaze fell to the floor as he shivered again, arms wrapped around his midsection, remembering how angry Phil had gotten when Steve had gone to a Dominant switch for advice about their sex life.

Dimly, through his emotional turmoil, he sensed Peggy kneeling down next to him.

“Steve, can you hear me?” Peggy knelt laid her hand on his shoulder. His entire body flinched. Her lips tightened and she let her hand drop. “You need to sit up if you're having an asthma attack. Where is your inhaler?” Her voice was calm and reassuring with not even a hint of a dominant tone.

Bucky skidded to a stop in front of them. “What the hell did you do to him?” he demanded.

“He started gasping for breath. I think he’s having an asthma attack,” Peggy explained as she rose from the crouch, her voice remaining calm even in the face of Bucky practically yelling at her. “We need the school nurse.”

Bucky’s lips tightened as he took in Steve’s condition, shivering and taking in harsh breaths. “No, we don't. That’s not an asthma attack.”

He slid to his knees and drew Steve’s head down so that it rested on his shoulder. “Come on, punk,” Bucky murmured. “Tell me what you need.”

Steve leaned into the warmth of Bucky’s body, turning his head so that his mouth was next to Bucky’s ear. “ _Phil,_ ” he gasped.

“Good,” Bucky replied in a soothing voice. He grasped the back of Steve’s neck in a firm grip. It wasn't the same as when a Dom did it but it was enough to stop the horrible gasps from coming out of his mouth. “Very good.”

Bucky’s body turned slightly so that he could address Peggy. “Find Phil!”

“I’ll see if I can find Pepper,” she replied immediately. “I'm sure she’ll know who he is.”

“Don't bother,” Natasha said as she arrived on the scene, her voice cool. “I sent Darcy to get Phil and Pepper is bringing over Dr. Garner.”

“You’re stabilizing him,” she said, addressing her words to Bucky. “Has this happened before?”

“Not to him,” Bucky said quietly. He didn't have to explain further; he saw the understanding in her eyes.

Drowning in his emotions, Steve wasn’t sure how much time passed before Bucky pulled free of his grasp and someone else gently lifted his chin. Light shined briefly into his eyes, its source a small penlight held in a hand with dark brown skin.

“Steve?” Steve focused his eyes enough to see Dr. Andrew Garner, the school therapist, leaning over him, his dark eyes calm and steady. His smooth voice was a balm over the panic causing his heart to flutter in his chest. “You’re experiencing a mild case of sub distress. I know you’re uncomfortable right now but I swear to you, this feeling will pass.”

Steve squeezed his eyes as another shiver wracked through him, feeling goosebumps rising on his arms.

“Do you know where your Dom is, Steve?”

He jerked his head in a brief nod.

“He’s on his way, Dr. Garner,” Natasha chimed in.

“Oh my god.” Peggy’s voice was faint, the horror in it clear.

“What is it?” Dr. Garner asked without taking his eyes off Steve.

“I Dommed him. I - ” she stammered. “I didn't know he was claimed.”

The tearing sensation in Steve’s chest grew as more guilt flooded his body. It was his fault; he should have told Peggy as soon as he saw her.

“This is why we tell you to talk with your potential partners before attempting any domination,” Dr. Garner reprimanded her gently. He turned back to Steve. “All right, Steve? We’re going to move now, okay?”

Dr. Garner pulled him to his feet and guided him out of the gym into the main body of the school. They didn’t go far, turning into a small room just off of the main corridor. Pillows were scattered across the floor. Several comfortable armchairs and one loveseat were also crammed into the small space.

Steve sank to the ground as soon as Dr. Garner guided him inside, distantly grateful for the pillows to cushion his arthritic knees. He couldn’t bear to be in any other position right now. 

“Your Dom is on his way, Steve. I’m going to be right here until he arrives,” Dr. Garner said as he sat in one of the armchairs but Steve wasn’t paying any attention to him. 

Phil was with Clint right now and Darcy was on her way to pull him away. It was going to be Steve’s fault that they wouldn't get to finish the conversation they needed to have.

“I'm sorry, Phil,” Steve whispered as another wave of guilt crashed over him.


	2. Chapter 2

“Phil.” Clint couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Say something, please.”

“Are you saying you want to renew our claim?”

“No,” Clint said, shaking his head. Not until he knew how Phil felt. “I’m not.”

“Let me get this straight.” Phil stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You’re asking me to come over to your empty house tonight but you don’t want to renew our claim.”

“Yeah.”

Phil stepped even closer so that Clint could feel the heat emanating from his body. “What do you want from me?” His voice was low and shook with some emotion that Clint couldn’t quite place. “I thought we had something special. Do you just want to fool around, is that it?”

“No.” Clint said quickly, horrified at the thought. “No, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it?” For the first time, there was frustration in Phil’s voice.

Clint understood; even he was getting annoyed at himself that the words he so desperately wanted to say kept getting stuck in his throat. He licked his lips and fought a surge of nerves to get his next words out. “I want you to be my first.”

Would Phil understand what he was really offering?

Phil’s eyes widened in astonishment. He was silent for so long that Clint had to stop himself from fidgeting.

“Clint,” Phil finally whispered. One of his hands began to rise. “I - ”

The door to the gym flew open with such force that it banged against the concrete wall and bounced back, a hand only just stopping it from closing again.

“Phil!” Darcy’s voice was frantic, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. “Steve needs you.”

If Clint hadn’t been looking directly at him, he would have missed the torn expression that crossed Phil’s face. For a split second, he stared at Clint, his hand hovering in midair. Then Phil turned sharply on his heel and headed back into the gym, grilling Darcy as soon as he was within speaking distance, his voice coming out in harsh tones.

The door closed slowly behind them. Clint stared at it, feeling a chill that wasn’t entirely from the cold air seep into his bones.

Of course. Clint shook his head, his lips curving into a humorless grin. Of course. Phil was a wonderful Dom and he had an obligation to Steve. It had been foolish of him to think this night would end any other way. He had no right to Phil’s time and attention; Clint had seen to that when he'd refused to renew their claim.

Unable to stand the thought of going back inside the gym just yet, Clint stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants and began to walk. He purposefully kept his mind blank, even as his heart hung heavy in his chest, gazing up at the stars twinkling in the night sky as he headed towards the soccer field. The equipment shed was directly in front of him and he made his way towards it, thinking that he would see if it had been left unlocked so he could borrow a soccer ball.

A sound reached his ears, causing Clint to stop in his tracks. Quietly moving until he was in the shadow of a nearby tree, hidden from sight by its wide trunk, Clint’s sharp eyesight let him easily pick out two figures pressed against the outside wall of the shed even in the dim light. They had chosen a good spot, hidden almost entirely from view with the field lights turned off. As he looked closer, he could see that they were actually Bruce and Tony, their black suits helping them to blend into the shadows.

“You look so good tonight, Bruce,” Clint heard Tony say. “You should wear a suit all the time.” Tony leaned forward, a hand braced next to Bruce’s head.

Bruce huffed out a laugh, head tilting so that light briefly glinted off the frames of his glasses. His back was flush against the wall of the shed as he looked up at Tony. “That wouldn't be very comfortable,” he murmured, Clint just barely able to hear the words. “Tony, you said you just wanted a dance.”

“I can't be held responsible for what I do when you look this hot.”

“You said the same thing last week when I was covered in grease.”

“It was true then and true now.”

“We should - ” Bruce’s voice was muffled when Tony surged forward, laying a kiss on his lips. His hand moved from its position on the wall of the shed to sink into Bruce’s curls as Tony tilted Bruce’s head back, obviously deepening the kiss as he pressed his body forwards. An audible whimper sounded from Bruce as he relaxed into the hold, kissing Tony back wholeheartedly.

Clint’s eyes widened. Tony was in love with Pepper. Everybody knew it; they had already renewed their claim twice and it was obvious the moment you saw the two of them together. Yet there was no mistaking the passion in the kiss Bruce and Tony were locked in or the fact that this was clearly not the first time they had kissed this way. What the hell was going on? They had never acted like anything more than friends before.

“Tony, we should get back,” Bruce said breathlessly once they parted. “Someone could come by and see.”

Tony was always so carefree; the fierce tone in which his next words were said was even more of a shock to Clint than the kiss. “I wish someone would.”

The silence that hung in the air following the statement was broken by Tony making an exasperated sound. “I don't like having to hide,” he said.

“I know.” Bruce sighed. “Maybe in a few years - ”

“You think I don’t know exactly how long I have to toe the line? You think I don't have a running countdown in my head of when I can finally be free?” Tony’s voice had turned harsh, his voice thick as if holding back tears. “I hate this! I hate this leash - ”

“Lullaby.” Bruce's voice was low and urgent. He turned his head to the side, away from Tony. “Tony, _lullaby_.

Clint blinked. No doubt about it; that was a safeword Bruce had just used. Suddenly, he felt awkward having stayed for so long during what was obviously a private moment. But he couldn’t leave now; he would definitely be noticed.

Tony immediately straightened up and took a step back, away from Bruce. “I’ll see you inside,” he said, his voice still rough, and then turned and headed back towards the gym. Within a minute, he’d reached the building and disappeared around a corner.

“This is so fucked up,” Bruce said once Tony was out of sight, his body slumping against the outer wall of the equipment shed, hands rising to grip the springy black curls of his hair.

Clint had no idea what just happened but he agreed with the sentiment entirely.

*

Steve heard Dr. Garner stand up when the door to the small room opened, bringing with it the thump of the bass line of the music still pumping through the gym speakers, muffled from having traveled through the walls in between. Dr. Garner quickly crossed to the entrance, passing Steve from where he was huddled on the ground, knees cushioned by a soft pillow, an occasional shiver still passing through his body, eyes squeezed shut.

“I’m glad you got here so quickly.” Dr. Garner spoke to someone in the doorway, blocking them from entering the room. “I would have done it myself but, with a claimed sub, it’s always better coming from their own Dom.”

“I understand.” Steve’s breath caught when he heard Phil’s voice. A fresh wave of guilt surged through him causing another shiver to wrack his body.

“If I’m not mistaken, this is the first time something like this has happened?” Phil must have nodded because Dr. Garner continued. “I’ll be monitoring the situation from the next room. If you need anything, say ‘Recorder.’ Even so, if I feel that it’s needed, I will step in.”

“I know how to take care of my sub.” Phil’s voice was cold and the tone caused a reflexive flinch in Steve.

Dr. Garner was unperturbed. “It’s a safety net for both of you,” he said, his voice calm. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The door closed behind him, shutting out the music from the dance once more. It was quiet in the small room, the only sounds the small, gasping breaths that Steve was still making occasionally. Phil remained by the door for a moment before he moved further inside, his steps decisive and firm, until he stopped just in front of Steve. 

Steve curled further into himself as he waited for Phil to speak, anticipating and fearing the harsh note of anger in his voice.

“I heard what you did.”

The tone was completely neutral, yet somehow, it made Steve’s anxiety spike even higher. Phil knew. He could feel the weight of Phil’s gaze on his lowered head. How could he even stand to look at Steve right now?

“I am so proud of you.”

For a moment, Steve failed to process the simple statement. He kept his eyes on the floor, his breath hitching. The warmth in Phil’s voice confused him; where was the anger?

“Steve, look at me.”

His eyes flew to Phil’s immediately, unable to deny his Dom anything in this state. The gentle smile on Phil’s face washed over him like a soothing balm, calming the clamoring inside of his head.

Phil cupped Steve’s jaw with one hand and he couldn’t help but lean into the heat of Phil’s wide palm, feeling his strength in even the simple gesture. “You needed help and you asked for me. You didn’t try to bear it alone. I am so proud of you,” Phil repeated the words firmly.

Even as his body began to relax into the hold, the shivers easing, Steve felt like something was still wrong. He wanted to be punished, to have the slate wiped clean. It shouldn’t be this easy.

But Phil knew. “Something set you off,” he said, “and we will talk about that later. But right now, I’m going to take care of you.”

His thumb caressed Steve’s cheek. “Tell me what you need, Steve.”

He wanted Phil’s arms around him, his calm voice soothing all of these awful feelings away. Steve’s arms tightened around his own body.

“You,” he croaked out.

In the next instance, Phil was down on one knee, drawing Steve into his arms. “Is this it?” Phil murmured into Steve’s ear.

A small sound slipped from Steve’s lips and he leaned into the warmth of Phil’s body, his hands rising to clutch at Phil’s suit jacket. He breathed in the woodsy smell of Phil, his body melting into the embrace. Phil’s presence was solid and secure, an anchor that he could rely on as his mind went blissfully blank, the unwelcome feelings fading into the background for him to deal with sometime in the future.

Right now, the only thing he needed to do was whatever Phil told him to do.

Phil’s hand settled on his neck and Steve bit back a groan of pure pleasure. Bucky’s grasp had been a pale imitation of this, a warm possessive hold that made him feel claimed right down to his soul. Steve took a breath and let himself relax completely, trusting in Phil’s grip.

Steve let go.

*

Natasha dropped into the seat next to Clint, crossing her legs.

“You know something,” she said, her green eyes narrowing into a piercing gaze.

“You need to teach me that party trick sometime,” Clint said, voice subdued. He was hunched over in his seat, elbows resting on the table.

Bruce had only stayed outside for a few more minutes before following in Tony’s footsteps. Clint had retraced his steps once he was sure Bruce was out of eyesight and slipped back into the dance through the double doors at the back. A nearby teacher had given him a sharp look but hadn’t said a word once it was obvious that he’d been alone.

Natasha scoffed. “You’re just not difficult to read.” Her eyes softened as she took in the expression on his face. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“I couldn’t,” Clint said, frustration coloring his words. He looked around, making sure no one was near, and then lowered his voice to prevent anyone from overhearing. “I told him that I wanted him to be my first.”

Natasha tilted her head, her short hair swinging with the motion, and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already had sex,” she pointed out. “You’ve told me about it many, many times. Even when I’ve told you to stop. Repeatedly.”

Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t get what all the fuss is about. It’s tab A into slot B.” Natasha sounded bored with the whole conversation. “What’s the big deal?”

“It’s just different,” Clint insisted. “When you have sex, you’ll see.”

Natasha remained quiet, which was as big of a tell as he ever got from her. Clint straightened up, turning slightly so that he could see her better. Her face was completely free from expression but after a moment, her eyes flicked to the dance floor just long enough for him to follow her gaze.

Loki and Sif were dancing together, their movements giving Clint the odd recollection of a swordfight. As they watched, Loki executed a flawless dip that made Sif smile reluctantly, while a smirk appeared on his own lips.

If it had been Sif, Natasha would have told him. So it had to have been... 

“Loki?” Clint asked, unable to keep the incredulity from his voice.

“I was curious.”

“About sex?”

“About submission.”

That caught Clint’s attention. Natasha was technically a Dominant switch but he’d never heard her express any feelings about submission before. “Really?”

“Usually, I don’t have any submissive urges,” Natasha mused. “There was only one other Dom who caught my attention last year but I wouldn’t have pursued him.”

“Why not?” came out of his mouth before his brain caught up. Natasha raised an eyebrow in response.

Of course. Phil.

“We didn’t enter our claim until the end of the year. You could have tried,” Clint said, even as the thought simultaneously made his heart lurch and his cock perk up slightly. Natasha and Phil together would have been something to see.

Natasha looked amused. “Thank you, but no,” she said. “He was obviously into Steve and you were obviously into him and then he was obviously into both of you and I had enough of that drama looking in from the outside. I did not want to be part of it.”

“So, Loki?”

She nodded. “Loki.”

Clint waited but she didn’t say anything else, her crossed leg swinging gently with the beat of the music.

“Well?” He finally demanded, his voice coming out a little too loud. He hurriedly lowered it, looking around again to make sure no one was paying attention before leaning towards her. “How was it?”

“Exhilarating. Mildly terrifying but in a good way. Intense.” Natasha’s voice was thoughtful. “Loki has a certain way with words. I took notes.”

Clint could tell that there was something else though. “But?”

“I didn’t like the loss of control.” There was curiosity in her eyes. “How do you do it all the time?”

“I don’t feel like that with Phil,” Clint said after a moment. “I just feel taken care of. Special. Even if it’s not true, I feel,” his voice softened, “loved.”

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Natasha said pointedly. “And the rest will follow.”

Clint blinked as he realized that she’d engineered their entire conversation just to make that point. “Holy shit, Natasha,” he said. “How do you do that?”

The corners of Natasha’s lips curved upwards. Even though her mouth remained closed, Clint had the distinct sensation that he was staring into the toothy grin of a shark. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing once more.

“Now let’s talk about whatever secret it is that you know,” she said, her voice a dangerous purr.

*

Steve came back to himself slowly. His head was resting on Phil’s shoulder, cradled in the crook of Phil’s neck, pulse point beating away only inches from Steve’s lips. His hands ached from clenching Phil’s suit jacket so tightly; surely, he’d wrinkled the fabric by now. His eyes fluttered open and he was treated to the sight of the strong line of Phil’s jaw.

Even with the cushions, his knees were protesting being in that position for so long, a dull ache blossoming in both. “Couch,” Steve said, his words little more than breath, trusting Phil to understand.

Phil helped Steve rise and then guided them over to the loveseat, going slowly in deference to Steve’s hobbling gait. They sat down together, Steve curling into Phil immediately, one arm wrapping around Phil’s waist, while Phil’s hand remained on the back of his neck.

“We’re not going to talk about whatever set you off tonight,” Phil said. From where he was pressed against him, Steve could feel the vibrations from Phil’s voice rumbling through his chest. “But when you’re ready, you will speak to me.” His tone brooked no argument, a hint of steel underneath.

“I understand, sir,” Steve said after a moment, his voice soft but clear. “I think I need to speak to Tony first. And Bucky.”

Phil’s chest rose and fell underneath Steve’s head with every breath. Steve could hear his heartbeat, steady and sure. “Why?” There was no judgment, only inquiry in Phil’s tone.

“A sub to sub talk,” Steve said. “I think they can help me sort through some things.”

“All right.” Phil gently squeezed the back of his neck and Steve let out a contented sigh, his body further relaxing into Phil’s.

The tangle of feelings Peggy had inspired were still in his back of his mind but he could ignore them for now, the presence of his Dom acting as a shield. Instead, his thoughts turned to the conversation he'd interrupted.

“Did you talk with Clint?”

Phil’s body tensed. Steve lifted his head, sitting up so that he could look at Phil’s face properly; his expression was carefully blank. By now, Steve knew that Phil only did that when he didn’t want to talk about something, but he pressed on anyway. It was his fault their conversation had been interrupted.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Phil said. “I’m not his Dom anymore, Steve.”

“But you want to be,” Steve said, deliberately pushing the topic. It had only been a week but Steve was tired of seeing the hurt in Phil’s eyes whenever Clint came up in conversation.

“That doesn’t matter.” Phil sounded tired. “He doesn’t want me to be his Dom.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

“He doesn’t want to renew our claim. He told me so tonight.” There was a note of irritation in Phil’s voice that Steve ignored.

“No,” he insisted. “You just need to talk to him again. It’ll all work out. You just have to - ”

“I don’t have to do anything!” Phil rarely raised his voice so Steve jumped a little in surprise. 

“This topic is closed,” Phil said firmly, his voice lowered to a normal level. “I’m taking care of you right now, not Clint.”

Steve pulled out of Phil’s embrace entirely. “I’m tired,” he announced, crossing his arms and jutting out his chin slightly. “I want to go home.”

Phil blew out a breath, obviously annoyed but trying not to show it. “Steve - ” he began to say.

The door opened at the moment, revealing Dr. Garner. “I’m just checking to see that everything is all right.” His voice was mild but his eyes were sharp as he took in the scene.

“Everything’s fine,” Steve said before Phil could, getting to his feet with some difficulty with his knees aching. “Phil was just taking me home. My knees hurt so I’d like to take something and rest.”

Phil stood up as well. “Like Steve said, I’m going to take him home.” His voice was even and his expression composed once more.

“Very well,” Dr. Garner said. He looked closely at the two of them but seemed to find nothing at fault. “I expect to see both of you in my office Monday morning for an additional session. Steve, 7 am. Phil, 7:30 am.”

Both of them nodded. They knew Dr. Garner well; being in an underaged claim meant they were required to have weekly counseling. Even those who were of age were encouraged to seek counseling when they entered their first claims and both high schools and colleges had dedicated therapists for those sessions.

“If either of you need anything, you have my phone number. Drive safely.”

Phil didn’t say a word as he guided them from the small room through the halls of the school to the parking lot. He remained silent as he helped Steve into his dad’s minivan and drove them to Steve’s house. Steve didn't speak either, accepting Phil's help from the car and up the steps of the porch without comment.

There was a single lamp on in the living room when they entered Steve’s house. The light from the TV flickered over Sarah Roger’s face as she lay on the sofa, still dressed in her scrubs from the double shift she’d done at the hospital.

She stirred at the sound of their footsteps. “Sweetheart, is that you?”

“Hey, ma.” Steve gently shrugged off Phil’s grasp and made his way to the sofa.

“You're hurt,” Sarah said as she took in Steve’s hobbling gait. She started to sit up.

“I'm fine, ma,” Steve said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I just need to take something.”

She gave him a tired smile. “Too much dancing, huh?”

“Something like that,” Steve said as he returned the smile. He drew the blanket down from where it was thrown over the back of the couch and placed it over her. “You need to rest.”

“I'm pretty sure that's my line.” Sarah patted his cheek. “You're a sweet boy.”

“I'll help him get settled,” Phil spoke up from the entrance. “Do you need anything, Mrs. Rogers?”

She sent a smile Phil’s way. Steve could see the way her eyes were starting to droop again. “You're both sweet boys,” she said, her words slurring a little with drowsiness. “No, I'm fine. You should enjoy the rest of your night.”

Steve pressed a kiss to his mother’s forehead. “Love you, ma.”

“Love you too, sweetie,” she murmured, already slipping back into sleep.

Steve made his way slowly towards his room, Phil trailing behind him. Now that he was home, the events of the night were starting to catch up to him. A bone-deep ache was present all over his body and his knees felt sore and swollen. He hated the fact that he couldn't go a single day without some sort of pain. It was part of the reason why he loved art so much; he could immerse himself in it and everything else would fade away.

Steve unbuttoned his suit jacket. When he went to slide it off his shoulders, however, he somehow twisted in just the wrong way. He hissed in pain.

“Steve.” It was the demand of a Dom, steel underlying the single syllable, no less powerful in the quiet way Phil said it.

His shoulders slumped. “All right,” Steve said, submitting to Phil.

Moving forward, Phil helped Steve to undress, hanging up the suit in Steve’s wardrobe. He fetched a glass of water and a painkiller from the bathroom as Steve pulled on his sleep clothes, a T-shirt and pajama bottoms that hung off his slender frame because they’d originally belonged to Phil. The look of satisfaction in Phil’s eyes when he returned from the bathroom and saw what Steve was wearing caused warmth to spread through Steve’s chest as he climbed into bed and accepted the items from Phil.

Steve set the glass on his nightstand when he finished swallowing the bitter pill, smiling when Phil pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then, Phil began to take off his suit jacket.

“What are you doing?”

Phil paused. “Do you not want me to stay?”

Of course he wanted Phil to stay. He wanted Phil’s arms tight around him as he drifted off to sleep, a barrier to all of the emotions that he still needed to sort through. But Steve had had a moment of clarity; this was what Clint had meant last year about feeling what Phil felt. His heart ached for Phil’s obvious pain and he wanted to do whatever he could to take it away.

“I don’t think you just want to be Clint’s Dom.”

As Steve expected, Phil’s expression immediately shuttered. “I thought I said that this topic was closed.”

“You also said that it was because you were taking care of me. I’ve been taken care of now.”

Phil remained silent, his expression blank as he stood beside the bed.

“You’re different with him than you are with me,” Steve said softly. “At first, I thought it was just because you had been in a claim with him longer. But that’s not it.”

Phil frowned. “Have I not been a good Dom to you?”

“Sir,” Steve said, leaning forward, “you’re a wonderful Dom. You make me feel special every time I’m with you.”

The lines of tension eased somewhat in Phil’s face but his expression was still troubled. He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach out and touch Steve’s leg. “It’s his choice, Steve, not mine,” Phil said and then let out a sigh. “I’m not sure what he wants from me but he’s already told me he doesn’t want to renew our claim. I can’t - ”

“Do you love him?”

Silence stretched between them. Phil’s throat worked.

“Phil, I want to be with you,” Steve said slowly, “but we both know this is not a romantic claim.”

After a moment, Phil nodded in agreement.

Steve looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “I think - ” he said and then started over. “I know that I’ve been jealous of what the two of you have. Someday, I want that for myself.”

He met Phil’s gaze again. “But you have the chance to have it right now and it’s slipping through your fingers.”

“Things would be different.” Phil’s expression was torn. He leaned forward, his hand reaching out to gently cup Steve’s jaw. “And I still don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Sudden relief rushed through Steve, a tension easing that he hadn’t even realized was there. “I don’t want that either,” he said. “So we’ll talk. All three of us. Maybe we can figure something out.”

But Phil was right. He could feel it in his bones that things would never be the same again. Steve briefly leaned into the warmth of Phil’s palm before he pulled away completely. “Don’t miss your chance, Phil.”

Phil held his gaze for one more moment. “Thank you,” he said before hurrying out of the room.

“Finally.” Steve closed his eyes and leaned against the headboard. “And he calls me stubborn.”

*

“You’re as subtle as a sledgehammer.”

“What?” Clint said, looking at Natasha.

“You’re looking directly at them while we’re talking about them,” she said, deliberately emphasizing each word before continuing in a normal tone. “They’re going to know something’s up.”

“I just don't get it,” he said, briefly glancing to where their other friends were sitting. He lowered his voice. “I know what I saw.”

Bruce was in an intense conversation with Jane, his brow furrowed as they sketched out something on napkins scattered around the table; those two never knew how to take a break. On the dance floor, Tony and Pepper swayed together, expressions soft as they chatted. Occasionally, Pepper’s musical laughter rung out. Her hand lightly gripped Tony’s neck in an unmistakable possessive hold that Tony was leaning into wholeheartedly.

In short, there was none of the angst that Clint had seen outside. All three were acting just like they always did.

Natasha swept her gaze around the room in a casual glance that nevertheless took in the entire scene.

“We need more intel,” she announced.

“Are we in a Bond movie now?”

“I would be a kickass spy,” Natasha said, her lips curving in amusement.

“Actually,” Clint said, “you would.”

“You can be my sidekick.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically. Clint frowned. “Wait, does that make me the Bond girl?”

“You wish you were that pretty.” Darcy stopped in front of them, hands on her hips highlighting her hourglass figure. “Clint, you've been moping around for almost the entire dance. Come hang out with us.”

“I haven't been moping,” Clint protested immediately. Both Natasha and Darcy rolled their eyes. “Wait,” he said, glancing around the gym. “Where’s Phil? And Steve?”

“Phil took Steve home.”

“Oh,” Clint said quietly as his heart sunk.

A gleam lit Darcy’s eyes. She was an incorrigible gossip; if Darcy knew something, the rest of the group was sure to find out soon enough. She sat in the seat next to Clint and leaned in, lowering her voice. “Steve went into sub distress. It turns out Peggy Carter Dommed him, not knowing that he was already in a claim.”

“Seriously?” Clint glanced around the room again, not seeing her anywhere. He hadn’t seen her in a year but he was pretty sure he remembered what she looked like.

“She left already,” Darcy said. “She looked really upset.”

“Sending the person you love into sub distress is not the ideal reunion,” said Natasha, her voice bone dry.

“You knew about this?” Clint asked, hurt spiking in his chest that she hadn’t told him and unable to keep it entirely from his voice.

“I only knew that they had gone to the submission room,” Natasha said immediately, gaze softening as she looked at Clint, “not that Phil had taken Steve home.”

“But you think she’s in love with Steve?” Another thought occurred to him. “Do you think Steve’s in love with her?”

“You know him. He plays his cards close to his chest.” Natasha shrugged. “All I can tell you is that they shared a pretty intense look right before he went into distress.”

Clint swallowed. “What about Phil?” he asked. “What does this mean for them?”

“Well, they did leave the dance together,” Darcy pointed out with a shrug of her own. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Right.” Clint looked down. He wasn’t quite sure what to think about the new information yet but it didn’t change the fact that Phil had left the dance without him. “Okay.”

“Come on,” Darcy said, laying a hand gently on Clint’s shoulder. He looked up at her and she indicated the rest of their group with a nod of her head. They were laughing at some story Fandral was relaying, complete with enthusiastic hand gestures. “Come hang out with us.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. He dredged up a smile for Darcy even though his heart wasn't in it. “Sure.”

*

Steve heard the creak of the floorboard outside of his room right before his mom poked her head inside. “Still up?”

His hand stilled briefly. “Yeah,” he said before resuming the careful sketch, his pencil drawing across the paper.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not sure.”

Sarah entered the room, leaving the door partway open behind her. She'd changed out of her scrubs and into her pajamas and a dressing robe, the sash of which was knotted around her waist. Her hair had been pinned for the night into neat curls.

She sat on the edge of the bed near Steve’s feet. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Steve stopped drawing. “How did you know that Dad was the one?” he asked without looking up.

“The one what, dear?”

“You know, The One,” Steve said, emphasizing the words.

“Oh, well.” Sarah was quiet a moment. “I don't know if he was, really.”

“What?” Steve looked up in shock, taking in her slightly amused expression. “What do you mean?”

“We had a bit of a whirlwind romance. We didn't spend that much time together before I became pregnant with you,” she said. “Then he got deployed and you know the rest.”

Steve did know. His dad’s unit had been taken out by a shell attack, leaving his mother pregnant with him and alone.

“But you got married to him. You must have felt something.”

“Oh yes.” Sarah smiled in remembrance. “I loved your father very much. And I will always be grateful that he gave me you.”

She patted his leg. “For now, you're my One. When you go off to art school, then I'll have time to think about other Ones I could be having.”

Steve twisted his face in disgust. “Ma,” he complained while she laughed at his pained expression.

He grew serious after a moment. He hadn’t been planning on telling her tonight but with acceptance letters arriving soon, it was as good a time as any. “Uh, about art school - ” He started to say.

“No, don't tell me.” Sarah held up a hand. “You’ve been thinking about it and maybe you shouldn't go after all.”

Steve gaped at her.

“I did raise you, you know.” Sarah shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re a sweet boy, but this self-sacrificing streak you have has got to end. You definitely got that from your father.”

“But, ma - ”

“No buts.” Sarah fixed him with a stern glare that belied her submissive designation. “You are a brilliant artist and the world deserves to see your work. I did not work this hard for this many years to see you throw it all away now.”

She always knew just the right thing to say to make him squirm. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Sarah nodded decisively, clearly ending the discussion of that topic. “Now back to this One business, are you talking about Phil or whoever it is you're drawing?” she asked, nodding towards the half-finished sketch.

Steve stared down at the swirls of pencil lines on the page, the suggestion of a pinned retro hairstyle just starting to form. “I don't know what to do,” he said, setting the drawing to the side with a sigh. “I don't want to lose Phil as my Dom.”

“She’s a Domme, isn't she?” Sarah shrewdly guessed.

He nodded.

“Well, that does make things complicated.” Sarah gave his calf a comforting squeeze. “Sweetheart, people come into our lives for many reasons. Only you can figure out what the reason is.”

*

Some time later, Clint had to admit that he was having fun. While avoiding Phil this past week, he’d missed hanging out with his friends, the time they spent together even more poignant with graduation in a few months. In fact, Tony and Darcy were the only other juniors in their group besides him and Natasha; everyone else would be graduating at the end of the year. And with Tony spending more and more of his time studying at MIT where Bruce already had an early decision acceptance, it was really only going to be the three of them left at SHIELD Academy.

He eyed Tony and Bruce. They were sitting next to each other now - Tony having joined Bruce and Jane in their conversation - but Clint could see nothing about their behavior that showed they were anything more than friends. And he couldn't sense a hint of jealousy from Pepper, who was chatting with Sif and Hogun about medieval weaponry of all topics. Did Pepper know? If she did, why were Tony and Bruce being so secretive?

“So, do you guys have plans for this summer?”

The words left his mouth before he took the time to think them through. Tony, Bruce, and Jane all looked at him, pausing their discussion. In the next moment, Clint had to fight to keep his expression from twisting in pain; without missing a beat in her description of _zakuski_ to a rapt Volstagg, Natasha dug the heel of her pump into his foot. Even so, Clint let out a small grunt that had Bruce looking at him curiously.

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

“I mean,” Clint said, drawing out the words as he searched for something to say, “it's the end of an era, you know? The Nerd Brigade coming to an end?”

“First of all,” Tony said, “we're the ‘Science Bros’ - ”

“For the last time, Tony,” Jane retorted, “I refuse to be called a ‘bro’.”

“But we made you an honorary bro,” Tony protested. “It's a generic term now.”

Bruce pulled off his glasses to clean them. “It's really not, Tony,” he said, blinking owlishly at the two of them as he dug into his jacket pocket for a cloth.

“But doesn't ‘Science Bros’ sound cool?” Tony appealed to the rest of the group, whose attention had been caught by their raised voices. “Like we're some kind of crime-fighting team that solves things with science?”

Darcy stared at Tony. “Yeah,” she said, “I don’t get that from ‘Science Bros’ at all.”

“And we don't really do either of those things,” Bruce said as he put his glasses back on.

“Well, sometimes we solve little things with science,” Jane said, “but I'm still not a boy.”

“And it just rolls off the tongue,” Tony continued as if they hadn't spoken at all. “Science Bros!” he shouted, punctuating it with a thrust of his closed fist in the air.

“If that's your argument,” Darcy said, “‘Science Sisters’ has better alliteration and makes just as much sense.”

Tony looked stumped for a moment. “Uh - ”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. “She's right.”

“Of course I'm right,” Darcy said triumphantly. “I'm partial to the ‘Inept Intellectuals’ myself.”

“Oh, that’s perfect for Tony,” Pepper chimed in.

Tony’s expression twisted in outrage but Jane was the one who spoke first. “Excuse me, but I’m not inept!” she said, glaring at Darcy.

“Jane,” Darcy said pityingly, “I’ve seen you try to cook.”

A tinge of pink highlighted Jane’s cheeks.

“To answer your question,” Bruce said to Clint, “Tony has been nice enough to put together a symposium for us this summer.”

Silence greeted his words. Tony crossed his arms, a challenging expression on his face.

“Wow,” Clint said with false enthusiasm after a moment, fully aware that he was the one who started this topic of conversation. “A symposium, huh?”

“It’s going to be so cool!” Jane said, excitement in her voice. “Betty Ross is going to come. Johnny and Sue Storm are flying in. Maya Hansen and Helen Cho confirmed last week. I think even Reed Richards and Stephen Strange are going to show up!”

“Ugh, I hope not,” Tony said. “Those guys are dicks.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “You’re just mad that Richards and Strange solved that last problem on Project Euler before you did.”

“No,” Tony said firmly, “they’re just dicks.” 

Bruce looked around, obviously puzzled at the pained expressions on the rest of their faces. “What’s the matter?”

“That sounds incredibly boring,” Darcy said bluntly. “It’s your last summer together. I thought you’d be blowing things up!”

Jane, Tony, and Bruce exchanged amused glances. “What do you think happens at a symposium?” Jane asked.

Darcy grinned. “Nice,” she said, holding out a hand for Jane to slap for a high five. “Can I come?”

“If you bring snacks,” said Jane.

“Deal.”

“On that note,” Bruce said, rising from his chair. “I’m going to get some more food.”

“Bring me some back too?” Tony asked, holding out his plate and comically batting his eyelashes at Bruce.

Bruce sighed in mock annoyance but easily took the plate from Tony. “Only because I know for a fact you haven’t eaten since breakfast.” 

Clint looked closely at the two of them, so closely that Natasha kicked him in his shin, but again, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary for the two of them. As Bruce headed towards the buffet table, Clint chided himself. Was it really any of his business what Bruce and Tony did? Even if he saw some evidence of the passion he saw outside, what would he really do with that information? Would he actually tell Pepper?

Several minutes later, Tony, who had been talking with Jane about wormholes, abruptly fell silent. Clint glanced over at him to see that his face had gone ashen as he looked beyond their table; following Tony’s gaze, he saw Loki heading across the dance floor, a predatory glide to his stride. His eyes slid forward along Loki’s path to see Bruce standing alone at the buffet table, still choosing food to refill their plates.

Bruce’s stance was initially wary as he turned around to face Loki, but then Loki leaned in and whispered something into his ear. Jane nudged Thor beside her. Thor frowned as he watched them. “I told Loki - ” he started to say but then he fell silent as they watched the scene unfold.

All of them could see the change in Bruce’s demeanor the longer Loki spoke, the way the set of his shoulders relaxed, the way his head tilted towards Loki, the way his mouth softened. Clint drew in a swift breath as he remembered how it felt to have Loki that close, to have him whisper the words you desperately wanted to hear.

“Oh, Bruce,” Pepper said softly. Bruce obviously wasn’t shying away from Loki’s attention like he had last year.

Tony didn’t say anything but Clint saw the anguish in his eyes before his gaze dropped to the table.

Bruce’s mouth curved into a small smile as Loki straightened up but he shook his head in response to Loki’s question, his curly hair swinging with the movement. A scowl darkened Loki’s complexion as Bruce turned back towards the buffet table and then his hand clamped down on Bruce’s wrist. Bruce frowned.

Clint set his jaw. He could stop this. Loki had only gone after Bruce after he’d turned him down. He started to rise from his chair.

“No.” Clint glanced at Natasha to see her eyes had narrowed. She abruptly stood and said, “I’ll handle this.”

Sif stood up as well, blocking Natasha’s path as she rounded the table. “He’s our responsibility,” she said as she looked down at Natasha, her features grim.

Natasha stared back at her unflinchingly. “I’ll handle this.” Her voice had a hard note to it.

Sif stared at her for a moment. “All right,” she finally said and stepped out of Natasha’s way.

“Nat, I can - ” Clint started to say, still poised to lend a hand somehow.

“Stay here!”

The command was unmistakable, the dominance in it ringing through, and Clint immediately dropped back down in his chair. Natasha set off across the gym, her heels clicking sharply on the wooden floor, as she headed towards the guy at the buffet table. Darcy glanced sharply at Clint but even she couldn’t keep her gaze from the confrontation that was about to go down for long.

Natasha stopped in front of them, her legs spreading shoulder-width apart as her arms crossed over her chest. Loki cut his gaze to her, eyes narrowed. Tension filled the air at the table, everyone’s eyes glued to Loki and Natasha. Clint could see a teacher leaning against a nearby wall beginning to stir, slowly realizing that something was going.

The exchange was over in less than a minute though, Natasha and Loki saying a few words before Loki released Bruce’s wrist with a sneer and disappeared back into the crowd. Bruce stared at Natasha for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face before he picked up the two plates. They returned to the table without speaking.

“Are you all right?” Darcy asked as soon as they were close enough.

Thor rose from his chair and drew himself up to his full height. “I apologize for my brother’s actions,” he intoned. “I swear to you that I will make amends on his behalf.”

“I’m fine.” Bruce set the plates down on the table with a wry twist to his lips. “You guys are making a big fuss over nothing.”

“Seriously,” Tony drawled, leaning back in his chair. The anguish that Clint had seen earlier was completely wiped from his expression, his usual carefree demeanor back in place as if nothing had happened. “That was so boring. You guys didn’t even fight. Pepper?” he asked, turning his head towards her. “Wanna dance?”

“Sure, Tony,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes as she stood. “Glad you’re all right, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded as Tony bounded to his feet, letting out a noise of derision as he did so. “Bruce probably didn’t even need Natasha’s help. Right, big guy?” he asked, clapping a hand to Bruce’s shoulder.

“I had him on the ropes,” Bruce replied, voice dry.

“See? Let’s boogie, Pep.” Tony grinned as he grabbed Pepper’s hand and led her out onto the dance floor.

Conversation slowly resumed around the table and Clint was drawn into the discussion Natasha was having about different types of swords. But out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw the considering look that Bruce gave Natasha before turning his attention to the food in front of him.

*

Ringing sounded through the speaker as Steve held the phone to his ear, adding more lines to the pencil drawing in his sketchbook here and there. The blast of noise when the call finally connected made him jerk the phone away before tentatively bringing it closer.

“Punk?” Bucky yelled over the music. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve said. He was grateful when the volume of the music dropped as Bucky obviously moved to a quieter portion of the gym. “Sorry I had to leave.”

“Hey, no problem. You need me to come over?”

“No, that’s all right.” Steve added another sweeping pencil line to the drawing. He knew Bucky would come over if he asked but he also knew him well enough to recognize that distracted tone in his voice. Bucky had his eyes on someone. “You enjoy yourself.”

“I think I just might,” Bucky drawled. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

*

An hour later, Clint and Natasha waved goodbye to everyone before heading to her sporty red coupe. The dance had ended and teenagers spilled out of the gym, heading towards their cars in the parking lot or to the curb to wait for their parents to pick them up. Despite all the drama of the night, Clint had enjoyed himself. Still, his mood turned pensive as Natasha maneuvered the car out of the parking lot onto the street.

“Are you sure you don't want to come over to my house?”

“I'm sure.”

At a red light, Natasha flicked her turn signal on and then tapped her fingernails on the steering wheel. Clint looked at her; tapping her fingers was one of the few nervous habits that Natasha had and even so, she only did it when she was completely comfortable with the people around her. He was pretty sure he knew what she was going to say.

“I didn't mean to Dom you tonight,” she said just as the light turned green. She busied herself with making the left turn, checking her mirrors and turning to check her blind spot. Clint knew she was also avoiding having to look in his direction.

“I know,” Clint replied once they were driving straight again. “It's all right, Nat. We're good.”

It was. They had already gone down that road when they’d first met freshman year. They knew they were compatible for each other. But they also weren't ever going to be more than platonic and Clint, at least, had known that that wouldn't be enough for him.

He could sense Natasha relax. “What are you going to do about Phil?” she asked.

“I don't know.” Clint thumped his head gently against the window, feeling like an utter failure. “Maybe I should have just renewed our claim. What if I've missed my chance?”

“I think Phil’s a good guy,” said Natasha as she turned her car onto his street, “but if he’s willing to give up on you so easily, then he's an idiot.”

Warmth unfurled in Clint’s chest. “Thanks, Nat,” Clint said as she pulled up to the curb.

“I’m not done,” she said shortly as she turned off the engine and faced him. “You’re an idiot too if you don’t go after what you want. Why haven’t you told him?”

“Because once I do, everything will change,” Clint said softly after a moment. “Once I do, he’ll know.” He closed his eyes, his head still leaning on the window.

“Everything has already changed,” Natasha pointed out. “You’re not in a claim anymore with him. And everything will keep changing because soon, he’s going to leave. You need to decide how you want to spend your remaining time with him.”

Clint knew she was right just as he knew exactly why he hadn't been able to tell Phil. He finally gave voice to the fear that had plagued him ever since he realized one simple fact months ago. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Natasha’s voice was firm but not unkind as she said, “At least you’ll know.”

Clint opened his eyes and looked at her. “You know, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “That’s good because you’re stuck with me,” she said. Clint grinned in response.

Her eyes shifted to look behind him. “You know, I wouldn’t give up on Phil just yet,” she said slowly.

Clint’s heart lurched. He turned his head slowly and looked out the window for the first time since the car stopped.


	3. Chapter 3

“Call me if you need anything,” Natasha said but Clint hardly heard her. He scrambled for the door latch, hands gone suddenly clumsy in a fit of nerves. His heart pounded in his chest as he got out of the car, eyes focused on the figure standing by his front door.

Phil stood still as Clint approached, hands clasped together in front of him. The path from the curb to the door had never seemed so long and yet it seemed no time had passed before Clint stopped only a foot away. 

“I thought - ” Clint said and then had to start over again. “I heard what happened to Steve. I thought you'd be with him.”

Phil didn't hesitate. “I am exactly where I need to be.”

Clint licked his lips. “Come inside,” he said, not meaning for it to sound like a question. Phil nodded anyway. Clint’s hand fumbled a little as he slotted his key into the front door, every one of his senses tuned in to where Phil stood nearby.

Silence and long shadows greeted them when they entered the house. Clint led the way up the stairs to his bedroom without turning on any lights, Phil familiar enough with the layout to be able to follow him with no trouble. He turned on the table lamp on his dresser once they entered his room, rather than the overhead, the softer light his preferred illumination before he went to bed.

At the thought, Clint stopped moving, his fingers still on the lamp switch. Was that where this night was leading? Somehow, the idea seemed more real now than any other time he’d thought about it. He could feel Phil behind him, an almost tangible dominating presence that called out to him.

Unable to resist, he turned around, leaning against the dresser for support. His eyes hungrily took Phil in, a feast after a week of self-imposed starvation. Clint had always thought that Phil was gorgeous and tonight, he was even more so. His dark brown hair had been trimmed, bangs combed neatly over his forehead. His eyes, blue-grey with a rim of hazel right around the pupil, their color deepened by the three-piece navy suit he still wore, steadily returned Clint’s gaze.

The air grew heavy between them. Clint couldn’t read the expression on Phil’s face, had no idea what he was thinking. Technically, what Clint had done tonight was considered rude. It didn’t matter that he and Phil had history; he had knowingly propositioned a claimed Dom without checking to see if his sub was okay with it. Maybe Phil was here to reprimand him for his actions. Maybe he was here to tell Clint that he didn't want to renew their claim any longer. Maybe he’d realized that he really only needed one sub.

Clint broke the silence, unable to take the tension anymore. “Phil, why are you here?”

“You asked me to be here, Clint,” Phil said softly. “What I can’t figure out is why.”

This was it. This was the perfect moment. But yet again, the words lodged in his throat, fear and doubt stilling his voice.

Phil’s lips quirked but there was no humor in his expression. “In fact, I haven’t been able to figure out all year why you wanted to be with me.”

Clint frowned, momentarily distracted. “What are you talking about?”

“I know who I am,” Phil said, lips still in a sardonic twist. “I’m a comic book nerd. I’m much more interested in history than anything that’s happening right now. And my idea of a good time is staying home with a book.”

“So?”

Clint didn’t understand why Phil thought those were bad things. He wasn’t so interested in comic books - that was Phil and Steve’s thing - but Phil’s knowledge of history was fascinating to him. Phil could make long ago battles sound glorious and the fervor in his voice as he described the intricacies of political diplomacy made political leaders sound like characters in a riveting story. One of Clint’s favorite things to do was to curl up next to Phil, his hand playing with the hair on Phil’s chest with the rumble of Phil’s voice underneath his palm, and listen to him point out the weaknesses in military strategies, just because it was wonderful to hear the excitement in his voice.

“So last week, I understood when you asked for some time. I figured you’d finally realized what I already knew.” Phil briefly glanced down before looking at Clint.

“But I miss you, Clint,” Phil said with so much feeling in the words that it took Clint’s breath away. “And if this past week is what life is going to be like without you now, then there’s something that I need you to know.”

Clint watched as Phil took in a deep breath and straightened up, obviously steeling himself to say something.

“I knew that I was being greedy and selfish,” Phil said, “to ask you to share more of your time with me. To ask you to think about being in a long-distance claim. You deserve so much more than that. You deserve a Dom who’s here and can see to your every need. I knew that and I asked anyway.”

Pressing his right hand to the left side of his chest, Phil bent forward into a deep, elegant bow. Clint sucked in a breath and straightened up, half-stepping away from the dresser as he did so.

Phil rose from the bow. “I am grateful that you chose to spend a year and a day with me as your Dom,” he said, the words sounding too much like goodbye.

“Wait,” Clint said, alarm causing his heart to lurch in his chest, “you think I don’t want to be with you.”

The resigned look in Phil’s eyes said it all. “I know we want different things.”

“Oh, you know that, huh?” Clint was suddenly and abruptly furious, all of his nervous energy transformed into white hot anger. “Is that what you know?”

He took a step forward, his hands curling into fists. Distantly, he realized that he was really angry at himself but words were coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Did you forget why I asked you to come over tonight?”

Phil looked away from him, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “I am honored that you thought of me,” he said stiffly, “but that’s something special. You should ask someone else.”

Clint took another step forward. “Of course I want to be with you,” he said fiercely. “That’s not even a question.”

A furrow creased Phil’s brow. “But - ”

“I love you!”

Time seemed to crawl to a stop as Clint’s words hung in the air between them, horror flooding though his body. He had thought so many times about the way that he would tell Phil those very words and none of those fantasies had included him half-shouting them in angry desperation. He stared at Phil helplessly.

In two quick strides, Phil crossed the space between them. “I need to know, Clint,” he said urgently, looking deeply into Clint’s eyes. They had both grown in the last year and were now the same height. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“I want you,” Clint said, dazed by Phil’s nearness. After a week apart, it was a little overwhelming. His voice dropped to a whisper and his next words slipped out almost without his volition. “I want a romantic claim. I want to be in a relationship with you.” 

A sound came from Phil’s throat. Clint wasn’t sure what it meant but in the next instance, Phil’s hands rose to frame Clint’s face. The heat of his wide palms against Clint’s jaw felt almost like a brand, a shock of pleasure running through his body. The first press of Phil’s lips to his was fleeting, a simple brush that nonetheless made the sensitive skin tingle. Clint’s eyes fell shut on the next pass; it was firmer with Phil gently coaxing Clint to move with him. Clint was hyper-aware of every sensation, the softness of Phil’s lips, the fine stubble of Phil’s five o’clock shadow sending sparks of electricity through him, the soft exhalations through Phil’s nose ghosting over his skin.

Phil pressed closer, his lips moving just as slowly, the kiss shifting from Phil coaxing Clint’s participation to demanding it. Clint parted his lips on a small gasp and Phil deepened the kiss, tilting his head to the side, mouths open and lips spit-slick. Nerve endings everywhere sparking to life, Clint wanted so desperately to fall into the kiss completely, to let Phil take full control. Yet one thought nagged at him, preventing him from letting go completely.

Phil hadn't said it back.

Clint’s heart sped up as the kiss continued, his breath coming short as Phil nipped and sucked at his lower lip. Breathlessly, he waited for Phil to take a moment to pull back or even to murmur the words against Clint’s lips. But the words didn't come and doubts began to crowd Clint’s mind. What if Phil was just glad that Clint wanted to renew their claim? What if he was just humoring Clint, just giving him one last kiss to remember him by? What if Clint’s love wasn't enough and once Phil got to college, he was going to break it off anyway?

Thoughts swirled around his mind, each more despairing than the last. Scenarios played out behind his closed eyelids, each one ending with him alone and heartbroken. And still Phil deepened the kiss more and more. Clint returned it desperately, trying to will Phil into reciprocating his feelings, until Phil’s tongue came out to flick at Clint’s lips with a groan, the bolt of desire that accompanied it shocking Clint into action. He took a step backwards, pulling free from Phil’s grasp, eyes trained on the ground.

“Clint, what’s wrong?”

Phil’s voice was deep and slightly raspy, the way it always got when he was turned on. Clint suppressed a shiver at the sound but didn't look up, not wanting to see the expression on Phil’s face.

“Don't.”

A long moment of silence stretched between them.

“I don’t understand,” Phil said finally, his voice carefully controlled.

If Phil felt the same way, surely he would have said it by now. “I guess we do want different things,” Clint said, heart sinking. He’d thought that maybe he had a chance but he was clearly wrong. All of a sudden, he wanted Phil to leave so he could be left alone with his humiliation.

“You just said you wanted a romantic claim, Clint,” Phil said and Clint could tell how much he was struggling to keep his voice even. “That’s what I want, too.”

That was the last straw.

“Don't lie to me!” Clint hissed, the dam of emotion he'd suppressed for months breaking. He felt as if his heart was splayed open. Tears welled up and spilled from his eyes, blurring his view of Phil. “You’re lying to me. You would have - ” A sob interrupted his words but he clenched his hands tight at his sides and refused to acknowledge the big fat drops rolling down his cheeks. “You would have said something by now!”

He was sobbing in earnest now, great, gulping ones that tore through his chest, interspersed with hiccups that caused an ache in his solar plexus with the force that his diaphragm was spasming. In some distant corner of his mind, Clint knew that his reaction was disproportionate but he couldn’t stop. It was all too much and the thought paramount in his mind was that he should have just kept this to himself rather than have to deal with all this pain. A command sliced through the spiral he was in.

“Clint, kneel!”

Phil’s voice was ironclad; Clint was on the floor before he had even processed the command, still hiccuping.

A warm hand grasped the back of his neck in a grip so tight it almost hurt.

“Relax,” Phil said in an implacable steel tone.

Clint sagged as if all of his strings were cut, sobs quieting. His head bowed forward.

“I'm going to ask you a question, Clint.” Phil’s voice was completely unyielding, a lifeline for Clint to hold onto against the maelstrom of his thoughts. “You’re going to give me an honest answer. Do you understand me?”

There was only one way he was ever going to answer that question. Even though they were no longer in a claim, in his heart Phil was still his Dom. “Yes, sir.”

“How long have you been in love with me?”

Even though he wanted to obey the dominance in Phil’s voice, Clint still couldn't answer the question right away. He’d spent so long hiding his feelings that it was hard for him to talk about it now. It made him feel too exposed. Besides, so many people had already guessed; did Phil really not know?

“Clint,” there was a note of warning in Phil’s voice, “I'm not going to ask you again.”

“Eight months, sir,” Clint whispered.

“Oh.” Phil’s voice was gentle and his thumb stroked the side of Clint’s throat. Clint leaned into the caress. ”Oh, Clint. You’ve been carrying this for a long time.”

Phil’s touch fell away from the back of his neck, his hands sliding around to frame Clint’s face once more. “Look at me,” Phil ordered.

Clint’s eyelids fluttered upwards, tears still clinging to the lashes. Phil was smiling down at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You amaze me, Clint,” Phil said, affection clear in his voice. “You’ve been through so much in such a short time but you're still so honest and thoughtful and happy.”

“Thoughtful?” There was surprise in Clint’s voice.

The crinkles at the corners of Phil’s eyes deepened as his smile widened. “In your own special way.”

A small laugh escaped Clint’s lips despite himself.

“You’re passionate and loyal and you find new ways to surprise me every day. Of course I love you,” Phil said with such fondness that any doubts Clint had melted away. “How could I not?”

“Sir,” Clint breathed out. His hands reached out to grasp Phil’s forearms. It was like completing a circuit, a sense of belonging rising in him that he had never known before. There was no place else he'd rather be.

But Phil clearly had other things in mind. “You know I never tire of you on your knees,” he said, “but stand up for me?”

As soon as Clint rose to his feet, Phil pulled him into a tight embrace, so hard that Clint’s breath huffed out of him. In return, his arms came around Phil’s waist, clutching him back just as much. Tension drained from Clint’s body as Phil’s hold tightened and he tucked his nose into the crook of Phil’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent.

“God, Clint,” Phil muttered into his ear.

“Sir?” Clint replied almost drowsily, his voice muffled from where his lips were pressed against the collar of Phil’s suit jacket. Phil’s wonderful woodsy scent surrounded him and he felt almost drunk off of it.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

A frisson of guilt ran through Clint at the clear pain and relief in the words. He hadn't meant to hurt Phil. He’d just been so scared that Phil wouldn't return his feelings, so terrified to take the risk and face rejection.

Clint lifted his head so that his words were clear. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“Don't be,” Phil said. He pulled back so that he could see Clint’s face once more. “I should have told you how I felt a long time ago. I'm sorry I didn't,” he said. “I wanted to so many times but I didn't want to be unfair.”

“To Steve?”

Phil shook his head. “To you,” he said then amended himself. “Well, perhaps to both of you. And I was being a little selfish. I wanted to keep being a Dom to both of you and I didn't want to make things weird.”

“Me too,” Clint admitted. “I didn’t want to make things weird either.”

“I'm glad you're braver than I am,” Phil said, one hand rising to cup Clint’s jaw. His thumb stroked gently along Clint’s cheek.

Their gazes locked and Clint drank in the sight of Phil’s gorgeous eyes. “Clint?” Phil asked after a long moment.

“Yeah?”

“What you asked me tonight,” Phil said slowly, “do you still want to share that with me?”

Clint was suddenly very much aware of the press of Phil’s body against his own, the body heat emanating from beneath layers of cotton and wool underneath his palms, the way Phil’s eyes darkened as his gaze dropped to Clint’s mouth. His heart quickened in anticipation and he licked his lips.

“Yes.” The word was barely out of his mouth before Phil’s lips were covering his own.

“Are you sure?” Phil asked, not even bothering to pull away, words muffled against Clint’s lips.

“Yes,” Clint said, the sound turning into a moan halfway through as Phil moved to the column of his throat.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight,” Phil said in between kisses. “We can wait,” he said even as he trailed the kisses down Clint’s neck, drew Clint closer to him. Clint angled his head back to give Phil more room, his lips parting at the shivers of desire running through him.

When his mouth finally reached the collar of Clint’s suit jacket, Phil paused. Clint waited, pulse hammering in his throat, for his next move. He was surprised when Phil straightened up and took a step back so that he was at arm’s-length.

“We’ve got time,” Phil said, as if they weren’t both keenly aware that this night was the end of school year dance, that graduation was only months away, and that soon Phil would be leaving for college. As if his eyes weren’t already dark with arousal and his erection destroying the lines of his suit.

In response, Clint reached out and gripped the fabric of Phil’s suit jacket tight near his waist, frustration and desire and a small surge of panic fueling his reaction, yanking Phil forward with the strength he’d gained from archery so that they were pressed together once more. He really did appreciate Phil checking in and making sure that he was okay but he had invited Phil over for a reason. He was ready.

“Just fuck me, sir,” he said, his voice coming out in something akin to a growl.

“ _No._ ”

Clint loosened his grip at the sheer power in the one word. Every submissive part of him responded to the dominance radiating from Phil, knees weakening so that he swayed a little towards him. Phil’s hands rose to his sides to steady him.

“No,” Phil repeated in a tone that was gentler but no less firm. “I’m going to make love to you, Clint.”

Then he cupped Clint’s jaw with both of his hands and proceeded to kiss the everloving hell out of him. Phil had never kissed him like this before: possessive and demanding, pure need and power, with a note of tenderness underlying all of it. Clint’s hands spasmed as he held onto Phil’s suit jacket for dear life and he drew in a ragged breath when Phil pulled away.

“That’s what I feel for you,” Phil said softly. He ran one thumb over Clint’s bottom lip while Clint fought to catch his breath, blinking rapidly, still dazed from the kiss. “That’s what I’m going to show you tonight.”

His hands began to slide down the lapels of Clint’s suit jacket. Even through the layers separating his hands from Clint’s skin, Phil’s touch felt burning hot. Clint’s nipples hardened when Phil’s fingers glanced over them, the weave of the cotton undershirt he wore suddenly becoming much more apparent to him. Phil easily popped open the top button of the suit jacket, the brush of his knuckles against Clint’s waist sending a jolt of pleasure downwards. Clint let go of Phil’s suit so that Phil could slip the opened jacket off of his shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the floor.

Clint raised his hands to the buttons of the matching grey vest, his own gaze falling to the floor under a wave of uncharacteristic shyness. After being in the circus, he thought he’d lost all sense of body consciousness but somehow Phil’s darkened gaze made him feel more on the spot than a full audience. Before he could unbutton even one though, Phil gently batted his fingers away.

“Let me,” Phil said.

Clint let his hands fall to the sides. His breaths were shallow as he watched Phil’s clever fingers slowly travel down the length of the vest, slipping each button free of its hold. Beyond them, he watched as the crotch of his pants tented more and more, each beat of his heart pumping more blood into his cock. He bit back a moan as the backs of Phil’s hands brushed against his lower abdomen, his cock jumping a little at the feel of them so close.

“Don’t hold back,” Phil said, his voice already slightly raspy with arousal. “Let me hear you, Clint.”

The vest followed the same fate as his suit jacket and Phil’s hands traveled upwards. Clint closed his eyes and leaned his head back as Phil began to unknot his tie, a patterned grey whose color matched the vest. He could feel his pulse beating in his throat as Phil tugged gently at the silk fabric, slipping it from around his neck and dropping it on the ground. He began to undo Clint’s dress shirt, pushing the small white buttons through the holes one by one.

Clint opened his eyes when Phil was halfway down his chest, only a thin undershirt separating his fingers from touching Clint’s skin. “Phil?”

A hushed stillness had fallen over the room, anticipation thickening the air between them. There was obvious strain in Clint’s voice as he broke the silence to get Phil’s attention.

“Hmm?” Phil murmured absentmindedly as he tugged Clint’s shirttails and undershirt free from his slacks in a single move, pulling a gasp from Clint’s lips as he ran his hands along the bare skin of Clint’s sides afterwards.

“I’m going to come as soon as you touch me.”

Phil paused midway through the act of reaching for Clint’s belt. It was obvious that Clint was telling the truth; the crotch of his pants were tented obscenely and Phil’s pants weren’t faring much better. Clint licked his lips at the flash of desire in Phil’s eyes and swallowed when Phil stepped even closer so that they were cheek to cheek, their lower bodies only a hair’s breadth away from each other.

“Are you saying that you don’t want me to touch you?” Phil murmured into Clint’s ear, low and slightly amused, even as he tugged open the belt, having to put in a little extra effort for the stiff new leather.

“No, sir,” Clint gasped, the puff of air over his earlobe from Phil’s words sending another jolt of desire through him. He felt like he was teetering on the edge already even though they'd barely even started.

Phil’s hands slid back under Clint’s undershirt again, his thumbs caressing the soft skin of Clint’s abdomen just above the waistband of his dress pants. Clint couldn't hold back the thick moan this time and Phil’s hands tightened briefly in response.

“Yes,” Phil said into his ear, triumph and dominance rumbling through his voice. “Just like that. Now I want you to take off the rest of your clothes and lay on your stomach on the bed.”

The commands penetrated the fog of desire that had fallen over Clint, allowing him to gain a measure of control. Phil stepping back several paces helped as well and Clint drew in a ragged breath. It wasn't as if they hadn't done these things before - as Natasha had pointed out, they'd already had sex - but every sensation seemed heightened tonight. Clint began to reach for his fly but then completely forgot what he was doing when Phil opened his own suit jacket with a flick of the wrist.

Like most teenage boys, Clint had watched his fair bit of porn, volume turned low on his laptop, one earbud in place, the other dangling free to hear if either of his foster parents were climbing the stairs towards his room, muffling his moans in his comforter. Even before his foster placement, he'd had his imagination as he worked himself over with quick, short pulls of his tight fist, hoping that his brother wouldn't come back to their shared tent at the circus earlier than expected. But nothing compared to the sight of Phil slowly peeling himself out of that navy three-piece suit, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of his vest and cuff links with ease, slinging the jacket and vest over the back of Clint’s desk chair. Phil tugged his striped blue, brown, and purple tie from around his neck, the silk sliding against the cotton of his dress shirt with a soft swish, before adding both tie and dress shirt to the pile.

Clint’s mouth went dry when Phil stripped off his undershirt, revealing a sprinkling of wiry dark brown chest hair between two pebbled, reddened nipples. His abdomen wasn't quite as defined as Clint’s but being the varsity soccer goalie had given him plenty of lean muscle in his arms and torso. Phil cupped the erection straining the fabric of his dress pants with one hand and Clint let out a sound that may or may not have been a whimper.

“Clint?”

The raspy quality to Phil’s voice made Clint want to let out another moan. “Yes, sir?” he asked breathlessly, eyes glued to Phil’s hand.

“Didn't I give you an order?” There was a dangerous rumble to Phil’s voice and Clint’s gaze shot upwards. Phil raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, sir!” Clint scrambled to follow Phil’s instructions, pulling off the dress shirt only to get tangled in it because of the cuff links still attached. By the time he sorted himself out, Phil was completely naked, hand gripping tight at the base of his cock. It took everything within Clint to turn away from the sight and lie face down on the cool sheets of his bed.

There was a moment of stillness and then Clint felt the bed dip as Phil climbed onto it. A hand briefly stroked through the short hairs at the nape of his neck before trailing down the length of his spine, leaving shivers of desire in its wake. Clint let out a sigh as Phil reached the small of his back.

“Lube?” Phil said softly, hand lingering just above the swell of Clint’s backside.

“Nightstand,” Clint replied.

The bed shifted and then Clint heard the sound of the nightstand drawer opening and closing. Nothing happened for a long moment. Clint’s brows drew together, tendrils of unease curling in his stomach, but he didn't move from his position; Phil hadn't given him another order.

Clint could feel the heat from Phil’s body increase as he leaned forward, his hard cock bumping against the back of Clint’s thigh. “I see you were prepared,” Phil said, laughter in his voice, as he brought something into Clint’s line of sight.

His eyes fell onto the biggest bottle of lube he'd ever seen with a label proudly proclaiming it to be ‘Economy Size!’ Heat burned suddenly along Clint’s cheeks and the nape of his neck as mortification swept through him.

“I didn't - ” Clint stammered out, wishing the bed would just swallow him whole. “My foster mom - ” he started to say and then stopped abruptly because that just made it sound a thousand times worse. He buried his head between the two pillows on his bed. Could this night get any more embarrassing? At this rate, Phil was sure to just give up on him.

“Hey, it's all right,” Phil said, still amused, although one thumb pressed soothing circles into the small of Clint’s back.

“I'm glad,” he continued and for the first time that night, Clint could hear a thread of uncertainty in his voice. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“You wouldn't,” Clint declared immediately, turning his head so that Phil could hear him clearly. “You never would.”

“I'll do my best,” Phil promised and then Clint heard the pop of the lube bottle cap.

Anticipation rushed through him, followed quickly by a surge of nerves. He shifted on the bed, stilling when Phil’s hand gripped the back of his neck.

“Relax,” Phil said. At the dominating hold, Clint’s spine positively melted into the bed and he received a stroke on the side of his neck from Phil’s thumb in approval. “Have you done this before?”

“No, sir,” said Clint, his voice dropping a little in volume. “I wanted you to do it.”

Without warning, Phil’s grip shifted to Clint’s hair, tingles skittering across his scalp as Phil pulled him up halfway off the bed so that he could devour his lips. It was an awkward angle but Clint didn't care, doing his best to return the kiss with lips and tongue and teeth.

“Okay,” Phil said as he pulled back, voice deepened in want. “Okay,” he said again as if to steady himself. Clint caught a glimpse of his face as he was lowered back to the bed and Phil’s pupils were blown wide, black swallowing the blue, desire obvious in his heated gaze. 

“Safeword, Clint?”

“Overdrawn.” Clint’s cock was so hard he could have drilled it into the bed and his nipples were peaked, pleasure jolting through his body with every brush of them against the bedspread. He was ready, felt like he had been ready for months, and he dared to spread his legs, a silent invitation. He heard the swift intake of a breath, the bed shift as Phil resettled in between them, a ghost of a touch right at the base of his spine, then slick fingers were finally, finally at his entrance and he moaned at the thought of getting to experience his one wish. But then the fingers moved away and Clint let out a sound of protest.

“We’re going to do this right,” Phil said, voice tight. He sounded like he was barely holding on. “My safeword is ‘Foxing.’ Repeat it, Clint.”

“Foxing,” Clint said immediately. He wanted, needed Phil’s touch again.

“And yours is ‘Overdrawn.’ You’ll let me know if you want to stop?”

“Yes, yes,” Clint hurriedly agreed. “Please, sir.”

Then the fingers were back, slick and sure, tracing the rim of his entrance with deliberate intent. Clint pushed back into the touch, spread his legs wider in wanton desperation. He heard Phil make another sound low in his throat, felt Phil’s hard cock bump again against the back of his thigh as he shifted closer and then one of Phil’s fingers pushed just inside. Clint gasped at the stretch of his entrance, the slight burn as the muscle gave way.

“Clint?” Phil asked, voice thickened in arousal as he stilled his finger just beyond the rim. “Does it feel okay?”

But Clint was completely done with waiting and he surged backwards, Phil’s finger sinking into him up to the second knuckle. He moaned loudly at the pleasure that swept through him, a hint of pain intensifying the feeling, as Phil swore behind him.

“Clint, stop!”

He immediately froze in place at the steel in Phil’s voice.

“You're going too fast,” Phil said firmly, dominance rumbling through every syllable. “We're going to do this slow or we’re not doing it at all.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint replied, chastised, some of the haze of desire having receded enough to know that Phil was looking out for his best interests. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“No need to apologize,” Phil said. With his other hand, he pushed Clint’s hips down so that they were on the bedspread. “How does it feel?”

“Good, sir,” Clint said, his breath hitching as Phil began to move his finger in and out in long strokes.

“Any pain?”

“A little, sir.” Clint gasped as Phil twisted his finger and pushed inside once more.

“Do you want me to stop?” Phil paused his movements again.

“It makes it better,” Clint said breathlessly and was rewarded with Phil starting up the long strokes again. “Sir, I want you, you know? Not gonna - Teasing?” He barely got the words out, desire shutting down his higher brain functions, making coherent speech almost impossible. He hoped Phil got the gist because he didn't want him to stop again.

This time, Phil didn't stop completely but he did pull out to trace along Clint’s rim, sending more sparks of pleasure through him. “I'm making sure I'm taking care of you, Clint.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint managed to gasp.

His finger easily sunk inside Clint’s body to the hilt, the stretch transforming into a pleasurable ache. “I want you to remember this,” Phil said, his voice turning low and fierce.

Clint was shaking with the effort of holding still as the sensations Phil’s finger were evoking continued to spiral outward. He wanted to follow Phil’s command, wanted to be good, but everything felt _too_ good. “I will, sir,” he said, voice slurred in passion.

“I want you to remember me,” Phil practically growled, finger twisting again as it moved in and out.

“Always, sir,” Clint said or at least tried to. He had no idea if the sounds that left his mouth were intelligible or not. He was lost in a sea of pleasure and all he could think was _more_.

There was a sudden shock of cold against his entrance and then the sensations shot up in intensity, his hole stretching to accommodate a second finger, pain and pleasure combining to become something more, the very more that he needed. Clint completely lost control over his body, clutching the pillows with his fists, his hips thrusting helplessly against the sheets again and again and again as orgasm crashed over him. He could feel his hole clenching around Phil’s fingers as he spilled his release and it made every swell of pleasure sharper and brighter, bright white exploding behind his closed eyelids.

“Clint, Clint, Clint,” he dimly heard and then warmth was splashing over the small of his back, spilling down over his cheeks, as sudden as the shock of cold had been. Clint let out a groan at the realization that Phil had come on his back, his own spent cock jerking against the wet sheets.

He twitched when Phil slipped his fingers free but otherwise couldn't move from the force of his orgasm. Clint had never experienced anything like that before, not even the time Phil had sucked him off in a bathroom stall in the locker room, Clint muffling his moans by sinking his teeth into his forearm while just outside the rest of the soccer team chatted and laughed as they got ready for practice; the teeth marks had stayed for two days afterwards.

“I'll get something to clean us up,” Phil said, voice raspy and shredded. Another shiver traveled through Clint at the sound.

The bed dipped and rose as Phil got off of it, heading towards the en suite bathroom. Clint didn't dare move, having already tested the limits of Phil’s dominance. Phil didn't formally restrict his orgasms but he certainly liked it best when he watched Clint fight to maintain control until he gave the order to come. Clint wasn't sure what the rules were, given that they were no longer officially in a claim, but considering he wanted Phil inside him at some point tonight, he decided not to do anything else to risk Phil’s displeasure.

Clint heard the creak of the floorboards underneath the carpet as Phil returned from the bathroom and then the bed shifted underneath his weight. A warm, damp washcloth was dragged through the mess of his back, cleaning it from his skin with gentle strokes. Clint let out a silent sigh at the thorough attention from a Dom, enjoying the lingering endorphin high from his climax.

“Turn over.”

Clint rolled over on his back, lips curled upwards in a dreamy half-smile, arms ready to draw his Dom down into more kisses, when his mood plummeted at the look on Phil’s face. Disappointment was clear in his expression and he wouldn't meet Clint’s eyes as he set about cleaning his front as well.

Phil finished and set back on his heels. An awkward silence fell between them. Heart heavy, Clint opened his mouth to apologize for coming too soon when Phil beat him to the punch.

“I am so sorry, Clint,” Phil said, raising his gaze to meet his.

Clint was taken aback. “What?” Shouldn't he be the one apologizing? “Why?”

“Some Dom I am,” Phil said and Clint was surprised at the amount of bitterness in his voice. “The ego I have, thinking that I can take on two subs, that I can even do long-distance with you, when it's clear that I can't take care of your needs even when you're right in front of me!”

“Phil - ” Clint started to say but Phil kept going.

“You should have asked someone else,” Phil said, misery twisting the corners of his lips downwards. “Someone who would have made this good for you. Like Natasha. Or Loki.”

He looked away, tension stiffening the set of his shoulders. “I heard what he said to you. Maybe you should have taken his offer.”

Clint’s mouth fell open. The words coming out of Phil’s mouth made no sense. Phil had a possessive streak a mile wide that was only curtailed by his equally strong sense of honor. The Phil he knew would never have suggested he go to another Dom, not even as a joke.

Narrowing his eyes, Clint stared hard at Phil. Something was eating at him; Clint could see it in the way a muscle jumped in Phil’s jaw, in the way he shifted every so often. A suspicion formed in his mind.

“Phil,” Clint picked his words with care, “this night has been amazing for me. The only thing on my mind was how soon I could be ready for round two.”

Phil glanced sidelong at him. “Really?”

That gesture confirmed it for him. It was too tentative for the Phil he knew and there was too much uncertainty in his eyes.

“Really,” Clint said. He reached forward and slid his hands from the tops of Phil’s shoulders up the sides of his neck until his palms were cupping Phil’s jaw, replicating the light hold that he’d been the recipient of so many times before. He hoped that Phil would derive the same amount of comfort that he did from it. “I love you and I love everything we’ve done together tonight.”

Phil closed his eyes, turning his head to press a kiss into Clint’s palm. His eyes opened and Clint was struck yet again by just how gorgeous they were, blue and green and hazel hues surrounded by long brown eyelashes. “God, I love you,” Phil breathed out.

Clint surged forward to kiss Phil, pouring all of his feelings into the action, all of the months of pent-up emotions and longing to tell Phil how he really felt. He wanted Phil to know that he was the only one for Clint. Phil returned the kiss, slowly at first and then with increasing fervor. He took control of the kiss, which Clint gladly gave up, making it wetter and deeper and dirtier until he finally made a frustrated sound low in his throat and tipped Clint onto his back on the bedspread.

Clint let out a gasp into Phil’s open mouth as he landed in the wet spot and Phil hauled him sideways on the bed without breaking the kiss for one instant. Phil’s tongue slid along Clint’s in an intimate dance and his length was starting to thicken against Clint’s thigh.

Phil finally ripped his mouth away only to latch onto Clint’s neck, causing Clint to arch his back as Phil sucked hard at the delicate skin. Clint’s own cock was starting to fill again as want rose in him.

“Oh god, Phil,” Clint moaned, hands clutching at Phil’s back, and Phil bit him in response. Another moan burst from his lips as the sharp sensation traveled through him. His arms tightened, wanting to pull Phil closer, but Phil was easing back, pulling free of Clint’s neck with one last hard suck and a wet slurp.

“Spread your legs,” Phil murmured against the skin above Clint’s collarbone. A shiver passed through Clint as he obeyed. The confident, dominant tone was back in Phil’s voice and when he met Clint’s gaze, his eyes had darkened once more in arousal.

“I want to see you this time,” Phil said as he reached for the lube. He coated his fingers with it as Clint raised his legs, knees towards his chest and hands gripping his thighs. He felt vulnerable in the new position but pushed the feeling away, eager to experience the sensation of Phil’s fingers inside him again.

Clint’s lips parted on a hard exhale as Phil breached his entrance with one finger. The stretch felt just as good as he remembered but everything felt more intimate, more intense, with Phil holding his gaze. It felt like he was putting on a private show just for Phil and his act was the series of moans and gasps that Phil wrung from his lips.

A second finger quickly joined the first and Clint voiced his approval with a breathless “Yeah.”

Phil braced himself on the bed with one hand as he leaned over Clint, his eyes taking in all of him. The long strokes of his two fingers kept going until Clint was rocking up his hips up to meet him. Phil took a moment to get more lube and then he pressed three fingers to Clint’s entrance.

Clint sucked in a big breath. Phil’s fingers seemed huge and he knew that his cock was larger still. His hole resisted the intrusion, instinctively tightening up despite his best efforts to let them inside.

Phil pressed kisses to Clint’s forehead and trailed them down the side of his face until he pressed one to his lips. “Relax,” he said, dominance rumbling through his voice. “I've got you.”

Little by little, his body did relax, letting Phil’s fingers sink inside to the first joint. Phil kissed him deep in reward, licking across the roof of Clint’s mouth as his hole fluttered around Phil’s fingers. He began to move his fingers in slow, shallow thrusts; with each one, he was able to push further and further inside.

“Please,” Clint gasped when Phil was up to the second knuckle. “Please sir, I want you.”

“You have me,” Phil said without pausing the movements of his fingers. Clint could feel the precome steadily dripping onto his abdomen from Phil’s hard cock.

“Please.” Clint’s voice was little more than a whisper of air, his breath stolen by the build up of pleasure within him, coalescing low in his belly.

“Soon,” Phil said and kissed Clint hard on the lips, their teeth briefly clacking together with the force of it. “Soon.”

Scant moments later, Phil’s three fingers were completely inside and Clint arched his back hard at the feeling, almost losing it at the wave of pleasure it evoked.

“Don't come,” Phil commanded and it took all of Clint’s remaining brain cells to obey, pulling himself back from the edge by digging his fingernails deep into his thighs.

“My hands are too slippery.” Phil’s voice was strained as he pulled his fingers free with a soft squelch and sat back on his knees. “You need to put the condom on.”

Clint lowered his legs and sat up. Phil was ruthlessly squeezing the base of his cock but even so, he looked like he was on the verge of losing it completely, jaw clenched tight and eyes blazing with want. Clint grabbed a packet with shaking hands and tore it open. After a too long moment of trying to coordinate his eyes and hands to figure out which way to unroll it, he pressed it to the tip of Phil’s cock, hot as a brand with a bead of precome welling at the slit. Smoothing it down his shaft pulled a groan from deep within Phil, his face contorting into an almost pained expression.

“Please, please, please,” Clint chanted as soon as he finished, throwing himself on his back and spreading his legs wide. He didn't care what he looked like, he needed Phil inside him as of yesterday.

But Phil was right there with him, quickly slicking his condom-covered cock with lube before following him down and lining himself at Clint’s hole.

“Ah!” The exhalation was startled out of Clint as Phil firmly pushed the head of his cock inside. Even three fingers couldn't have prepared him for Phil’s girth and pain shot through him as his hole stretched wide.

“Clint?” Phil immediately stopped moving, alarm in his voice and on his face.

“It's fine, it's fine,” Clint said quickly. And it was, the initial spike of pain already mellowing into a tolerable ache. “Don't stop, I need you.”

Still, Phil hesitated, looking deep into Clint’s eyes.

Clint licked his lips. “Claim me, sir,” he said softly.

Phil briefly closed his eyes, his grip on Clint’s hips tightening to the point that Clint was sure he was going to have bruises tomorrow. Then slowly, he began to push further inside.

Clint’s hands tightly gripped his thighs. A moan welled up from deep within him, long and low, as Phil buried himself to the hilt in one slow glide. Phil exhaled a shaky breath and then he leaned forward to capture Clint’s lips. Like earlier that night, an electric jolt went through him, as if a circuit had been completed. This was where Clint belonged, where he'd always belonged: underneath Phil, filled to the brim with his cock, accepting the thrust of his tongue with eagerness. He’d never felt so submissive before, yielding under the onslaught of Phil’s body. But Clint had also never felt so powerful as he did in that moment, feeling the coiled tension in Phil as he struggled to maintain control.

Phil broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against Clint’s, eyes still closed. “Are you okay?” he whispered, the huff of his breath cool against the damp above Clint’s lip.

Clint nodded, unable to speak but knowing Phil could feel the motion.

“Can I move?”

Clint nodded again.

Phil began to pull out slowly and they let out simultaneous groans, Clint’s hole clutching at Phil’s cock as if it couldn't bear to let it go. It was less than half a dozen slow thrusts later that Phil was saying in a low, gravelly voice, “So good. You feel - ah! - incredible.”

Opening his eyes, Phil pinned Clint to the bed with his heated gaze. “Clint, you have to come,” he said through gritted teeth, jaw clenched tight, his thrusts speeding up and rocking Clint’s body. “Now!”

Clint could only stare back at Phil desperately, hands clenching his thighs, as each thrust wrenched another sound of pleasure from deep within him. He wanted to obey Phil’s command so badly. But everything was just too much. His entire system was overloaded with sensation with no singular focus. He felt Phil’s increasingly hard thrusts everywhere, the tight grip of his hands on his knees everywhere, the slap of Phil’s heavy balls against his ass everywhere.

Then Phil shifted positions slightly and his hand closed around Clint’s hard, leaking cock in a tight fist. The pleasure suddenly sharpened in intensity, rushing through him and ripping through his lower abdomen in an orgasm that left him shuddering in ecstasy, moaning Phil’s name, painting his chest and stomach with long strips of glistening come as colors burst behind his closed eyelids. Phil gave one last rough thrust and then followed him over the edge, shouting wordlessly, head thrown back and his cock jerking deep inside Clint. When it was over, he collapsed on top of Clint, all the strength gone from his body.

Clint clutched him tight to his chest, heedless of the sweat and the come between them, whispering “I love you” over and over into his ear, and feeling Phil murmuring it in return against his skin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little delay in posting it but this is the final chapter of _And That Was When I Kissed Her_. The notes at the end of the chapter will list all of the relationships mentioned in this story as well as the plan for the rest of this series.

The front door of Tony’s mansion swung open as Steve climbed the short staircase, revealing the family butler Jarvis. His grey hair was, as always, neatly brushed back from his face, the high widow’s peak of his hairline elongating his forehead. Despite his sober expression, there was a twinkle in his eye as he greeted Steve.

“Good day, Mr. Rogers,” Jarvis said. “Are you quite sure you’re willing to face young Mr. Stark this morning?”

“Hello, Jarvis,” Steve said with a smile that was a bit dimmer than usual. Jarvis’s accent had brought another Brit to the forefront of his mind. “What’s wrong with Tony today?”

Jarvis gestured for Steve to enter the foyer. “Well, as you may well know,” Jarvis said as he closed the door behind Steve, “the sun has arisen this morning. This is apparently a grievance that must be remedied as soon as possible with a mob of villagers carrying pitchforks and torches. Or whatever else that we may have close at hand around the mansion.”

Steve stifled a laugh but couldn’t hold back his smile. “Of course,” he said, countenance lightening at the thought of Tony’s antics. “Where can I find him?”

“The den.”

Steve thanked Jarvis and headed towards the rear of the mansion; the den was close to the backyard pool. He found Tony sprawled face down on the couch with a blanket pulled partially on top of him. The sofa was an oversized monstrosity, perfect for when their entire group came over to hang out in the den, so he barely took up half of the available space. An empty carafe was sitting on the coffee table next to scattered papers that also littered the floor, some crumpled into balls. Steve ignored the mess and sat down next to Tony on the couch.

“Tony, wake up.”

One eye blearily opened. “Wha - ?”

“Come on, I need to talk to you.”

Tony groaned. “Wha time izzit?” he mumbled into the couch cushion.

“It’s 11 o’clock. I called you and you told me to come over in an hour.”

“When?”

“An hour ago.” Steve got up and grabbed the carafe. He headed over to the coffee maker and began to make Tony’s favorite roast. “Come on, I really need to talk to you.”

Another groan greeted his words. Steve put the carafe in place and flipped the coffee maker on. Five minutes later, the rich, roasted aroma of the coffee beans permeated the air, the carafe filled with dark brown liquid.

Tony’s head slowly raised up from the couch. His eyes were still halfway closed and his right cheek was red and mottled with the pattern from the sofa fabric. He grunted in Steve’s direction.

Steve rolled his eyes and poured Tony a cup. “This stuff will kill you,” he said, handing it over.

Tony drained the mug in one long, seemingly nonstop pull before holding it out to Steve for a refill. “I’m pretty sure coffee is not going to be the thing that kills me,” he said, his voice still sleep-rough, eyes blinking slowly.

Steve refilled the mug and gave it to Tony, who was slumped against the back of the couch but at least upright now. “I need your help, Tony,” he said, dropping down on the other end of the couch.

Tony took another long pull that drained half of the liquid inside. “This is about Peggy, isn’t it,” he said, his eyes more alert as he looked at Steve over the rim of the mug. “What happened between you two last night?”

Obligingly, Steve recounted last night’s events. “I’m so confused,” he admitted when he finished.

“Let me just ask you one question,” Tony said, setting down his now empty mug. He fixed Steve with a penetrating stare. “Did you want to follow Peggy’s command?”

“Yes and no.” Steve looked down at his hands. This was what he’d been thinking about all morning. “I do want to kiss Peggy,” he said slowly. “I’ve liked her for a long time. But I don’t know if I want her to order me to kiss her.”

Tony nodded. He began rooting through the pillows and cushions of the couch.

“Tony, what are you doing?”

“All will become clear,” Tony muttered, digging deep into the space between sofa cushions before emerging triumphantly with his cell phone. He hit a button and put the phone on speaker as it dialed a number. The call was picked up after the second ring.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice was puzzled. “I didn’t expect to hear from you so early. Is everything all right?”

A small smile touched Tony’s lips, a tender expression softening his face. “Hey, Pep,” Tony said, his voice low and intimate as he said her name. “I’m here with Steve and I’m going to tell him.”

Without hesitation, Pepper said, “Tony, you know that I support your decision. Do you want me to stay on the line?”

“Yeah, would you?” The relief in his voice was clear. “Let me just make the other call.”

Steve’s eyebrows drew together when the next voice he heard was Bruce’s. “Tony?” Bruce said, his voice deeper and rougher than usual. “What are you doing up?”

“I’m going to tell Steve.”

This time, silence greeted his statement. Tony kept his gaze lowered, trained on the phone’s display. “Are you ready for this, Tony?” Bruce asked, concern evident in his voice.

Tony blew out a breath. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m tired of hiding. I don’t want to do it anymore. Our friends wouldn’t hurt us.”

“Not on purpose,” Bruce agreed, albeit somewhat cynically. “Your father - ”

“Let me worry about my father,” Tony said, interrupting him. “This is my decision.”

“Fine,” Bruce said. “You worry about your father and I’ll just keep on worrying about you. Deal?”

Tony’s lips quirked into another small smile. “Deal.” He pressed a button on the phone. “Pepper? Bruce? You both there?” They answered affirmatively and he put the phone down on the coffee table.

Looking up for the first time since he found his phone, Tony met Steve’s confused gaze head-on. “For the past six months, I’ve been dating Bruce,” he said, his voice ringing out clearly in the silent room.

Steve stared at Tony. “What?” Of all the things that he thought Tony might say, that was not on the list at all. “How?”

“Pepper’s my Domme and I love her,” Tony said with a smile. “And I also love Bruce.”

“But that’s dangerous.” Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “A sub can’t be with two Doms and you know that.”

Even though it had become less rigid in modern times, a code of conduct still governed the relationships between Doms and subs. Being driven by their urge to serve made subs vulnerable to distress if they received conflicting orders from two Doms; it was generally considered taboo for a sub to be in any kind of relationship with more than one Dom because of the risk. Doms were susceptible to drop if they didn’t think they were fulfilling the needs of their claimed subs, but as the risk was considered smaller, there were a number of Doms with multiple subs. That code had been in place for centuries.

The smile had dropped off of Tony’s face. “So I’m supposed to lie to myself?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly. “I’m supposed to pretend that I’m not in love with Bruce?”

“I felt what it was like to go into sub distress, Tony. It felt like I was being torn apart,” Steve said, placing a hand on his chest. “And that was the _mild_ version.”

“But don’t you see?” Tony leaned forward, his eyes pleading with Steve. “Don’t you see why I’m telling you? We’ve been doing this - me, Bruce, and Pep - for months now. And I’m fine!”

“You’re right, Steve.” Bruce’s voice sounded from the cell phone speaker. Steve had almost forgotten that Bruce and Pepper were still listening. “It’s incredibly dangerous. We’re taking a huge risk.”

“Bruce,” Tony said softly. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Not on purpose.”

Tony set his jaw, a stubborn look in his eyes. “It’s been working,” he told Steve. “We’ve talked and we’ve set up rules and boundaries. You can ask us anything you want.”

Steve was quiet for a long time. “Bruce, can I ask you a question?” He waited until Bruce said yes. “Do you want to Dom Tony?”

“No,” Bruce said immediately. “I don’t want to Dom anyone.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at that. Bruce was a Dominant switch but it was clear that his Dominant nature far outweighed his submissive one. 

“To be with Tony,” Bruce took in an audible breath, “I have to fight against my nature. I love Tony and I want to be with him, but every day, I wonder if this is the day that I’ll lose control and put him into sub distress.”

“That won’t happen,” Tony said confidently. “It’s not possible.”

Bruce just sighed.

Despite himself, despite knowing the dangers, Steve was starting to feel the first stirrings of hope. Was it possible for him to truly have everything that he wanted? “Pepper?” he asked. “How does this work for you?”

“It works because I love Tony and I want him to be happy,” Pepper said immediately. She paused a moment. “But I want to be very clear about something. I am not Phil. And Bruce is not Peggy.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that you need to talk with them, Steve,” Pepper said gently. “Just because this works for us doesn’t mean it’ll work for you.”

Steve was quiet a moment. “Thank you everyone for sharing this with me,” he said sincerely. “I really appreciate it. I have a lot to think about.”

They said their goodbyes and Tony ended the call. He traced his thumb over the phone display, a solemn air surrounding him.

Steve wasn't sure what to do but he wanted to reassure Tony that he wouldn't tell anyone. “Tony - ” he started to say.

“I didn't tell you about Bruce to encourage you to go after Peggy,” Tony said abruptly, interrupting Steve. He raised his head and Steve was startled to see the level of despair in his eyes. “I told you about Bruce so that you wouldn't.”

*

A pleasant ache was present in his body when Clint stirred from sleep. His eyes fluttered open and he was momentarily blinded by the sunlight streaming through his window. He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision, and was greeted with the welcome sight of Phil lying next to him, still asleep, chest rising and falling with slow, deep breaths.

The corners of Clint’s lips lifted. Phil was lying on his back, one arm over his stomach, the other halfway between them on the bed, fingers curled slightly towards his upturned palm. His head was tilted towards Clint so he could see Phil’s face clearly; there were the faintest creases near the corners of his eyes even in slumber and the bump on his once broken nose was clearly visible. Phil’s lips were slightly parted; every so often, he let out a soft whistling noise with a breath.

Clint thought he was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen.

Unable to resist, he moved forward until he could lay his head on Phil’s chest, placing one hand on Phil’s shoulder. Phil stirred, his arms automatically moving to tighten around Clint’s body, one hand burying itself in Clint’s hair, the other resting on Clint’s back. Clint let out a pleased sigh, his body relaxing against Phil’s.

Phil seemed to fall back asleep after the change in position. Clint lay awake, hearing the soothing steady thump of Phil’s heart in his ear. Last night had gone better than he could have imagined, hearing Phil tell him he loved him after months of imagining Phil breaking up with him. His body heated up as he remembered the way it felt to have Phil deep inside of him, driving him to a spectacular orgasm that beat every single one that came before it hands-down. He couldn't wait to try it again, to have Phil take him hard and fast, not needing to wait for him to adjust.

Clint licked his lips, desire heating his blood as he imagined it. His morning wood was rapidly turning into a true erection as he thought back to that time in the locker room. What if Phil had been fucking him instead of sucking him off? Would he have been able to keep quiet? He certainly hadn't been able to last night; everything had felt too good.

“What are you doing?” Phil’s low, amused voice broke through his thoughts.

Belatedly, Clint realized that he’d been grinding his hard cock in the crook of Phil’s hip. His eyes flew upwards to see Phil looking down at him, eyes still hooded from sleep, brow creased.

“Sorry, sir.” Clint stopped moving instantly, a flush heating his face. “I was thinking about last night,” he admitted.

“Were you?” Phil’s hand tightened in his hair. His voice was still sleep-rough and it seemed to deepen with his next words. “What were you thinking about?”

“How much I want to do it again.”

Phil’s eyes darkened and Clint’s heart quickened in response. “Me too.”

“Now?” Clint asked hopefully.

“Hmm, you were loud last night,” Phil murmured, causing Clint’s flush to deepen. “We wouldn't want your parents to hear.”

Disappointment swept through Clint. It must have shown on his face because Phil’s lips quirked. “I have the perfect solution,” he said.

He ordered Clint to take off his underwear and maneuvered them on the bed so that Clint was straddling his head, erect cock directly over Phil’s face. Then Phil pushed his own boxer briefs down until his rapidly hardening cock was revealed.

Phil encircled the base with one hand and looked up at Clint. “Suck,” he commanded.

Clint leaned forward, only too happy to comply. They had both washed up after their activities last night so Phil tasted clean and fresh, precome already starting to well up at his slit. Clint lapped at it eagerly, swirling his tongue around the spongy head. He yelped when Phil’s hands encircled his hips, firmly coaxing him downwards so that his knees slid across the sheets, his right knee knocking one of the pillows aside. Legs spread wide on the bed, Clint knew exactly what Phil was planning to do and yet he still couldn’t stop the moan when Phil’s mouth closed over his cock, sucking firmly at the sensitive head.

The wonderful pressure stopped immediately. “Clint,” Phil warned. “If you can’t control yourself - ”

“Sorry, sorry!” Clint gasped and turned his attention back to Phil’s cock, only to have to pull off again in a hurry moments later when Phil sucked one of his balls into his mouth. Clint’s hands clutched at the bedsheets on either side of Phil’s hips as he gritted his teeth, trying desperately not to make a sound at the delicious sensation of Phil rolling the ball around in his mouth.

A small whimper escaped his clenched lips when Phil stopped. “I thought I gave you an order, Clint,” Phil said, amusement and satisfaction obvious in his tone. Clint peeled open his eyes and focused on the reddened head of Phil’s cock with determination. Two could play that game.

What followed next was the quickest, dirtiest, most satisfying game of one-upmanship Clint had ever participated in. He licked and sucked every inch of Phil’s cock that he could reach, trying to make Phil come before he completely lost all control at the way Phil was alternating between sucking his cock and balls. Clint ended up losing the game but only just: Phil’s spit-slick finger found its way to Clint’s entrance and firmly pressed just inside; the sense memory of what they had done the previous night made Clint lose it immediately, spilling into Phil’s mouth with a moan that vibrated around the shaft of Phil’s cock. Phil thighs tensed and then he was coming, warm, thick come flooding Clint’s mouth that he swallowed greedily.

Clint collapsed onto his back on the bed beside Phil with a huff, his head still down by Phil’s feet. “Oh my god, I love you,” he panted, staring at the ceiling.

The bed shifted and Phil’s crinkled-eyed grin appeared in his line of sight a moment later. Clint couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Love you too, Clint.”

*

“I don’t understand,” Steve said, staring at Tony. “You just said - ”

“I said what they needed to hear,” Tony said, interrupting Steve. “I said what needed to be said to keep them around just a little bit longer.”

He set his phone down on the coffee table with a sigh. Even though Tony was younger than Steve, at that moment, the lines on his face made him seem far older.

“I’m selfish,” Tony said. He shook his head when Steve opened his mouth to protest. “No, Steve, I am. I want things too much.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration creasing his brow. “I want Pepper. And I want Bruce. And I don’t know how to let go of the things I want.”

He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. “It’s killing them,” he said, his voice muffled. Tony’s hands dropped away from his face, revealing his anguished expression. “Pepper doesn’t admit to it but I know it kills her every time I spend time with Bruce without her. She thinks that one day Bruce will Dom me and I’ll pick him over her.”

“Would you?” Steve asked quietly after a moment’s silence.

“Never,” Tony said fiercely. “She’s my Domme. She owns my collar; no one else.” He looked away from Steve. “Besides, that’s not what I want from Bruce.”

“Tony,” Steve said softly. “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Garner.”

Tony snorted, his expression turning bitter. “I can’t,” he said, voice turned harsh. “There’s a reason we’re all keeping this secret. Dear old dad won’t interfere as long as we make sure it doesn’t leak to the press. Can’t have those Stark Industries stocks go down.”

“Don’t worry, we have our own shrink for counseling sessions,” he added, seeing the concern in Steve’s expression. “Mom insisted on it. Ours is bound by a non-disclosure agreement so if any of this gets out, we can sue her for all she’s worth.”

Steve pressed his lips together. He wasn’t bound by any such agreement and Tony was choosing to confide in him anyway, revealing the amount of trust Tony was placing in him. Tony may act as if nothing and no one bothered him but Steve knew that this had to be important for him to go through this much trouble to make it work. There was too much at stake for his relationship with Bruce to just be a fling.

“But it doesn’t matter anyway,” Tony said in a dejected tone. “I’ve done the calculations and we’re going to break up. It’s just a matter of when.” 

Steve’s heart ached at the amount of sadness in Tony’s brown eyes. How could he not have known that one of his closest friends was going through something like this? Then again, he had hidden his feelings about Phil for over almost a year; Tony had been just as surprised as everyone else when Steve had accepted Phil’s claim.

“I’m just going to hold onto them for as long as I can.” Tony’s voice was resigned.

Steve didn’t know what to say. Anything that came to mind seemed disingenuous because they both knew the risks of a sub being with two Doms.

Still, Tony had been doing this for months and he hadn't experienced the same kind of sub distress Steve had last night. Was it simply because he was stronger than Steve? Even with the recent improvement in his health, Steve still struggled with a lot of his medical conditions, maintaining a strict regimen to keep himself from ending up in the hospital yet again.

Or was it because Bruce didn't want to Dom anyone so Tony just hadn't been put in the same position that Steve had been in last night? He’d wanted to follow Peggy’s command because there wasn’t a week that went by when he didn’t think about kissing her at least once. But the thought of Peggy being his Domme didn't seem right. He’d always liked the fact that Peggy had been the first to treat him just like everybody else, to look beyond his short stature and sickly demeanor to see the real him. He'd spent months imagining them together once his crush on her had inevitably blossomed but not once had his fantasies included her as his Domme.

When Phil came into his life, he knew immediately that he wanted to be on his knees for him. He'd resisted, knowing his own limitations and not wanting to saddle a Dom as wonderful as Phil with a sickly sub. Having to watch Phil fall for Clint had been heartbreaking; his hope that he would grow out of his numerous ailments fading with each passing day. But somehow, Phil had wanted him as well and Steve was still grateful that he'd agreed to enter a claim with Phil nine months ago.

Phil had been able to have both him and Steve. Was there a possible future where he could have both Phil and Peggy?

Tony let out a small chuckle and shook his head.

“What is it?” Steve asked, not knowing what to make of the look Tony was giving him.

“Guess I should have kept my big mouth shut,” Tony said, mouth twisted in grim amusement. “Because I can see in your eyes that you’re going to do it anyway.”

*

Clint was tucked back in against Phil’s side, head lying on Phil’s chest and hand playing with the curly dark brown hair that was sprinkled between Phil’s nipples, when a knock sounded on his bedroom door.

“Phil?” Moira called through the door. Clint’s head jerked upwards and he half-rose from the bed. His eyes were wide as he stared at Phil, feeling a flush heat his cheeks even as the tips of Phil’s ears grew red. They were still naked! “Are you going to be staying for breakfast?”

Phil’s throat worked. “No, Mrs. Queen,” he said after a brief pause, only a slight crack in his voice to betray his embarrassment. “I should be getting home.”

“All right,” she said. They heard her start to move away from the door and then her footsteps returned. “I’ll let your mother know you’re on your way. She was a little worried when you didn’t come home last night.”

“Th-thank you, Mrs. Queen.”

Clint waited until he could hear Moira’s footsteps descending the staircase. “You didn’t leave a note?” he asked, surprise in his voice, as he scrambled out of bed, Phil following after him. “You always leave a note.”

“Clint, I didn’t go home at all after the dance,” Phil said distractedly as he pulled on his boxer briefs and snagged his suit pants from the back of Clint’s desk chair. “All I could think about was you.”

He’d already slid on a pair of boxers but Clint stopped his search for pajama bottoms to look at Phil, who was currently hopping in place, trying to get his other leg into his pants. He finally managed it and fastened them before reaching for his undershirt.

A sense of awed wonder filled Clint as he watched Phil finish dressing. He'd done it. Somehow, he'd managed to get this wonderful, caring, passionate Dom to fall in love with him. Phil always knew exactly what to do and say to make him feel special. It felt like his heart was almost bursting with all the emotion he was feeling, a swell of happiness that radiated outwards to fill every inch of his body.

Clint took a step towards Phil and it felt as if he were floating, as if his feet weren’t even touching the ground. His eyes drank in the sight of Phil as he shrugged on his jacket, fully dressed except for the tie lying on Clint’s desk, dress shirt collar still unbuttoned. “Sir?”

“Hmm?” Phil glanced over, his hands slowing as he straightened his jacket collar. A small crease formed between his brows when he saw that Clint was still in his boxers. “Clint, what is it?”

Holding Phil’s gaze, Clint slowly slid to his knees. He took a deep breath and drew on the swell of emotion surging inside of him to fuel his next words.

“Phillip Coulson, I would like be your submissive,” said Clint, words clear and sure, “for as long as you’ll have me.”

He could see the moment Phil’s pupils dilated, the brief intake of air that whistled past Phil’s lips as the significance of what Clint said registered with him. Slowly, Phil closed the distance between them until Clint had to tilt his head up in order to maintain their eye contact. He looked into Clint’s eyes for a long moment, gaze unreadable.

The skin of Clint’s jaw tingled when Phil slid his hands along it, thumbs coming to rest in front of Clint’s ears and fingers curling around his nape. “Clinton Barton,” he said solemnly. “I would like to be your Dominant for as long as you’ll have me.”

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Clint said, leaning into Phil’s hands, “I place myself under your protection.”

A stillness hung in the air as he waited for Phil to say the words to complete the ritual but Clint waited patiently. He'd said what he wanted to say, bared the deepest, most fervent wish of his heart. He didn't want a temporary claim. He wanted to be with Phil no matter what.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Phil said, the words quiet but filled with the power of his dominance, “I will be your protector against the world and yourself.”

Not breaking their gaze, Clint’s hands rose to grasp Phil’s forearms. He felt the rightness of being claimed, of being Phil’s again, settle onto him like a warm blanket. “Sir,” he murmured, nuzzling into Phil’s grasp, completely and utterly content.

They would still have to renew their claim in a year and a day - they were both underage and couldn’t sign a contract as the final portion of the ceremony. Still, it was a pledge, a promise to each other of their true intentions.

“Oh, Clint,” Phil said softly, affection and wonder apparent in his blue eyes. “Thank you.”

*

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Steve muttered, listening to his cell phone ring in his ear, as he walked towards the international student dorms at SHIELD Academy. He’d called Bucky three times already; after his conversation with Tony, he was more confused than ever. Tony thought that he was going to go for it but Steve wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Bucky was his oldest friend and knew him better than anyone, sometimes better than he even knew himself.

Steve jerked to attention when the phone finally picked up. “Mmph,” sounded in his ear or a good approximation of it.

“Bucky, I need your help.”

“What is it?” Bucky’s voice was hoarse but a lot more alert than a minute ago. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Steve was quick to say. “Just come let me in. I need to talk about last night.”

“Be down in a minute.”

Steve’s suspicions were raised when Bucky answered the door still wearing his suit, a bit more rumpled than the last time he saw it, and were confirmed when Bucky pushed open the dorm room he’d been given to show a bed that was entirely too neat to have been slept in.

“I see you found some company last night,” Steve said as he sat down in the desk chair, unable to resist.

Bucky’s answering smile was full of satisfaction, bordering on smug. “It was a good night,” he said as he sprawled on the bed. His expression turned serious. “Yours, not so much.”

Steve outlined his dilemma. He left Tony out of it, just saying that he’d heard of some subs being able to have two Doms. “What do you think?” he finally asked.

A frown drew down the corners of Bucky’s mouth. “I think you’re being reckless,” he said firmly.

Steve was taken aback. “Reckless?”

“I wish I had a recording of the way you sound when you talk about Phil.” Bucky looked almost angry. “You have a good thing going with him and you’re just going to throw it all away?”

“But I’m not!” Steve protested, shaking his head. “I don’t want to give Phil up. He’s my Dom.”

“Right,” Bucky said. “He’s your Dom. How do you think he’s going to feel, knowing that you want someone else?”

“But he wants someone else!” The shouted words hung in the air between them. Steve balled his fists, anger surging inside of him. “I’m not enough for him. He wants Clint. He’s in love with Clint.”

“So this thing with Peggy is some sort of revenge?”

“No,” Steve said, voice quieting. “Peggy was the first person to look at me and not see ‘the sickly sub,’” he said, citing his nickname when he’d first transferred into SHIELD Academy. “She just saw _me_ and treated me like she treated everyone else. She’s passionate and brave and beautiful and - ”

Steve broke off and stared out the window. He wished that this were simpler. He only wanted Phil to be his Dom so why was it that he still felt so angry about the fact that Phil wanted Clint? He wanted Peggy so why was it that he didn’t want her to be his Domme as well?

“And?” Bucky prompted after Steve was silent for several minutes.

“There’s something between us, Bucky,” Steve said, focusing his gaze back on him. “Has been right from the beginning and now I have a chance to find out what it is. I don’t think I can let that slip away.”

“Steve, are you sure you want to do this? You could lose everything.”

Steve looked down at the ground before looking back at him. “Buck, I think I have to.” 

Bucky searched his expression. “Do what you need to do,” he said. “If you need me, I’m here.”

“Thank you.” Steve let his gaze sweep over Bucky’s suit-clad form. Knowing Bucky’s more liberal attitude about fooling around outside of claims, he couldn’t resist teasing him again. “So what exactly did you do last night? Or should I say who?”

Bucky laughed, his countenance lightening. “Oh, he was good,” he said, leaning back on his elbows on the bed and letting his legs fall apart. “A tall drink of water in a dark green suit with the most gorgeous blue eyes. The sexy accent was definitely a plus, too.” He smirked. “I’m hoping for a round two before I leave.”

“You don’t mean - ” Steve stared at Bucky, his mouth dropping open in horror. “You slept with Loki?!”

*

Clint only lasted half the day in his own house before he had to see Phil again. He ignored the amused expressions on his foster parents’ faces when he told them where he was going and walked so fast to Phil’s house he was almost running.

Phil smiled when he opened the door. “I was just about to call you,” he said and Clint felt a thrill go through him at the way Phil let the dominance rumble through his voice. “My mom had a work emergency. She’s going to be gone the rest of the day.”

Clint licked his lips. “Yeah?”

The next thing Clint knew, Phil had him up against the wall in the foyer and was kicking the door shut behind them. “Clint,” he murmured before his mouth descended. Clint opened up his lips immediately, moaning as Phil’s tongue swept inside.

Clint was dazed when Phil finally pulled back, breathless from lack of air. In the next moment, his hand cupped Clint’s hard cock and Clint thought he was going to come on the spot, his breath whistling out sharply between his teeth.

“I had to jerk off when I got back,” Phil said in Clint’s ear, his own hips replacing his hand and beginning a slow grind. Clint wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck and pressed closer as the tension in his body ratcheted higher and higher, desire heating his blood. “Thinking about how it felt to be inside you.”

Clint shivered at the feeling of Phil so close to him and the sound of his voice in his ear. One of Phil’s hands trailed along Clint’s arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before rejoining his other one in grasping Clint’s waist. “Do you want to come for me, Clint?”

“Yes,” Clint moaned, suddenly teetering on the edge of climax. He would do anything for Phil; all he had to do was ask.

“Not yet,” Phil murmured and then proceeded to make what felt like the world’s largest hickey while Clint rolled his hips, pressing closer and moving faster, the hard line of Phil’s cock causing pleasure to pool low in his belly.

Stars burst behind his closed eyelids and his cock lurched in his jeans when Phil sucked hard at the thin skin. “Sir,” Clint gasped. “I’m gonna - ”

Suddenly, Phil was gone. Clint whined at the loss and opened his eyes to see Phil standing several steps away, desire dilating his eyes, the crotch of his jeans straining over his hard cock. Satisfaction was in the quirk of his lips as he swept his gaze down Clint’s body. He opened his mouth to say something but just then, the doorbell rang.

Clint let the back of his head rest against the wall with a soft thump and closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he said softly, because there was only one person he knew who would be ringing Phil’s doorbell today. He felt a hand cup his jaw and he smiled softly, turning his head to press a kiss into Phil’s palm.

“It’s all right, sir,” he said, seeing Phil’s worried expression when he opened his eyes. “It’s fine, we’ll just pick this up later, right?”

“Definitely,” Phil said, voice still rough with a dominant tone rumbling through it.

Sure enough, when Phil pulled open the door, Steve was standing on the other side. “I need to talk to you, sir.” Clint had never heard Steve sound so stressed before.

“Of course,” Phil said, stepping back so that Steve could enter.

Steve stepped over the threshold and noticed Clint for the first time. He looked back and forth between them, taking in their aroused states, his eyes lingering on the hickey forming on Clint’s neck. A touch of pink stained Steve’s cheeks as he said haltingly, “I’m interrupting something.”

“It’s fine,” Clint said shortly, even though he could feel each pulse of blood filling his cock, the desire stirring his blood demanding to be satisfied. He pushed off from the wall. “I’m just gonna - ” he trailed off, one hand gesturing aimlessly through the air, and turned to head towards Phil’s room.

“No jerking off,” Phil commanded and Clint’s breath hitched. He’d hoped that this one time, he would been able to get away with taking the edge off a little.

“Actually,” Steve said, biting his lip as he looked between them again, “I think I should talk to both of you.”

They settled in Phil’s living room, Phil and Clint on opposite sides of the couch and Steve sitting in an armchair. It felt a little weird not to be in their customary places, one of them on either side of Phil, but it would have been more difficult to carry on a conversation that way.

“Sir,” Steve said in a rush once they were all seated, “I went into sub distress last night because Peggy Carter Dommed me.”

Clint’s gaze flew to Phil’s face in time to see his expression go blank. “I know that, Steve,” Phil said quietly. “Who is she to you?”

“Honestly?” Brow furrowed, Steve leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know. A friend, I guess, although we haven’t spoken in a while.”

“What did she command?” Phil’s voice was carefully controlled.

“For me to kiss her.”

Phil became very still. “Did you?”

“No!” Steve looked aghast. “Of course not, sir!”

Phil’s expression didn’t change but the set of his shoulders loosened somewhat.

Anger boiled up inside Clint and he couldn’t keep silent any longer. “But you wanted to,” he said, crossing his arms. “That’s what this is all about. You still can’t see that Phil is the best thing that ever happened to you and you want to hurt him again by going after this Domme.” He shook his head in disgust. “You don’t deserve to have Phil.”

Steve was on his feet in the next instance. “You hypocrite,” he said, fury making his voice shake a little, hands balling into fists. “You’re the one who refused to renew your claim and I had to watch Phil tear himself up inside because of it for over a week.”

“I love Phil,” Clint shouted, rising to his feet as well, ignoring the twinge of guilt from the truth in Steve’s statement. “I was never going to leave him.”

“Well, you have a funny way of showing it,” Steve yelled.

Clint grinned, a nasty twist to his lips. “I showed him plenty last night,” he said. “And this morning, too.”

Steve blanched, eyes widening and face growing pale. Clint knew that he’d struck a nerve; Steve was still sensitive about his physical limitations as a sub.

“Down!” Phil roared, eyes flashing as he jumped to his feet.

Clint and Steve immediately hit the ground knees first, instinctively responding to the full-blown dominance in Phil’s voice.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Phil said. Clint cringed at the anger and disappointment in Phil’s voice, shame washing over him and his gaze falling to the floor. “I can’t believe you two would say those things to each other.”

Phil walked over to the living room window, his footsteps loud in the otherwise silent room. After a few minutes with no other sound, Clint dared to glance upwards. Phil was leaning against the windowsill, arms outstretched and head bowed; the afternoon sun prevented him from seeing Phil’s expression in his reflection in the window pane. Clint glanced to his side before turning his gaze downward again but he saw only misery on Steve’s downturned face, the same emotion churning up his own insides.

He had gotten back together with Phil less than 24 hours ago and already he’d screwed up. He shouldn’t have said such a hurtful thing to Steve when he was absolutely right about the fact that Clint had kept Phil at arm’s length for a week. He had hurt both Phil and Steve with his cowardice.

Apprehension spiked when Phil’s footsteps finally began to draw closer several minutes later, wondering what Phil had been contemplating for so long. What if Phil had been re-thinking whether he wanted to be in a claim with Clint?

“Look at me.”

Clint raised his gaze to see a forbidding expression on Phil’s face, a deep furrow between his brows and the corners of his mouth downturned. His arms were crossed as he looked down at Clint and Steve, still on their knees.

His gaze focused on Clint. “There’s nothing wrong with waiting to figure out what you want.” His voice was measured, the anger gone. “I’m not angry with Clint for taking the time to do that.”

Clint sagged slightly, relief coursing through him as Phil turned to Steve.

“We’ve already talked about the fact that we don’t have a romantic claim,” Phil said slowly. He paused, briefly glancing over at Clint, before saying, “If you have a chance of finding with Peggy what I’ve found with Clint, then you should definitely go for it.”

Clint’s heart soared even as anguish filled Steve’s expression. “Sir, there are three months left in our claim,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “I can wait.”

“I don’t think you want to,” Phil said gently. “There’s a reason we say ‘for as long you’ll have me.’” Steve bowed his head, his hands curled into fists on his lap.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Steve said, voice thick.

Phil crossed over to Steve and cupped his jaw with one hand. Moisture was in his eyes as he lifted his head to meet Phil’s gaze. “I’m right here,” Phil said. “Figure things out with Peggy and then,” for the first time, his voice broke as he spoke, “come back to me if you can.”

Steve nodded. Clint watched as Phil helped Steve to his feet and gave him a long hug, whispering something in his ear. Steve nodded again and then headed towards the front door. It shut behind him with a soft click.

With a sigh, Phil sat back down on the couch. “Come here, Clint.”

Clint immediately rose from his kneeling position and slotted himself against Phil’s side, trying to get as close as physically possible. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said in a small voice, laying his head on Phil’s shoulder and placing one hand on his chest.

“I know you are,” Phil said, burying his fingers into Clint’s hair. His chest rose and fell under Clint’s hand and he could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“Are you okay, sir?” Clint ventured to ask after several minutes of silence.

“No,” Phil said, his grip tightening a little on Clint’s hair. “But it was the right thing to do.”

*

“Ask me again,” Steve said when Peggy answered the knock on her dorm room. He’d had to enlist Bucky’s help in order to figure out where she was staying but he needed to do this before it was too late.

“Steve?” Peggy looked confused as she let him inside and shut the door behind them. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer to her. “Ask me again.”

Her expression cleared, then turned wary. “What about your Dom?”

“I’m unclaimed,” Steve said, ignoring the slice of agony that went through him as he said it. He would deal with that later; right now, he needed to figure this out. “Peggy, ask me again.”

Peggy looked at him for a long time. “Kiss me, Steve,” she finally said, steel curled around each word.

Steve was moving even before she finished speaking, one hand coming up to cup her cheek while the other moved to the small of her back to pull her towards him. Their kiss was long and deep, years of feelings poured into every slide of their lips and every flick of their tongues. Peggy wound her arms around Steve’s neck even as Steve moved both of his hands to her waist, pulling her close as the kiss continued so that every curve of her body was molded to his.

“Wow,” Peggy said when they finally separated, her warm brown eyes wide with astonished pleasure.

Steve’s heart was beating fast in his chest. Their kiss was absolutely perfect, everything that he’d ever dreamed. There was just one problem. “Peggy,” he said, stepping back and letting his hands fall away from her. “I don’t want you to be my Domme.”

Peggy blinked. “Oh, thank heavens,” she said, relief clear in her voice.

“Wait,” Steve asked, momentarily distracted from what he’d been gearing up to propose to her, “you don’t want to be my Domme?”

Peggy’s gaze softened. “Steve, I like you a lot. But I have no interest in being your Domme. I don’t think I have any interest in being anyone’s Domme.” She sighed. “I wish there were another way.”

Steve smiled, hope blossoming anew. “I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one more planned story for this series called _You Could Be My New Prescription_. While a Tony-centric story, you will also find out what happens next for Clint and Phil and Steve.
> 
> Here is a list of all of the relationships between the main characters mentioned in this story:  
> Clint/Phil/Steve, including Clint/Phil and Phil/Steve  
> Bruce/Tony/Pepper, including Bruce/Tony and Tony/Pepper  
> Darcy/Fandral  
> Darcy/Natasha  
> Bruce/Loki (never an established relationship but Loki does pursue him)  
> Natasha/Loki  
> past Clint/Natasha (platonic claim that was soon dissolved)  
> Bucky/Loki  
> Thor/Jane

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and comments are much appreciated.


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